Gorgeous Beasts
by choppinbroccoli
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is coming to Westeros. Jon Snow is King in the North. What now? Re-imagining* of what happens after season six, with greater focus on Jon and Dany. (*With more Reeds, horns and princes)
1. Long Way Home

**This is something I've been writing on and off ever since season seven ended. So... some two years ago? Wow, that takes me back. **

**Initially, I only tried to come up with a few extra scenes because I felt they rushed some plot lines. However, in the process of adding them I felt a bit silly just copying what happened on the show. Ideas came to me, but they didn't fit into the plot. **

**Eventually, this grew into something different enough to make it worth a read. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it too.**

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** 1\. Long Way Home - Daenerys**

Life aboard the _Balerion_ was rather boring. Dany had chosen the biggest vessel available as her flagship, but it still couldn't house all three dragons at once. Not that her children needed it, as they seemed very comfortable swimming in the sea. _It's a queer sight,_ she had to admit. Her dragons were fire made flesh, but the water didn't faze them at all.

Yara Greyjoy had offered to make her nights more interesting, yet Dany didn't think it would be a good idea. The last thing Tyrion Lannister had advised her to do was leave Daario Naharis behind. She knew her Hand wanted her focused on the path ahead. He had also mentioned she might want to forge an alliance through marriage, but Dany was barren.

_My dragons are all the children I'll ever need,_ she told herself, almost believing it this time. Mirri Maz Duur had taught her a valuable lesson. _Only death can pay for life._ Whatever match her Hand had in store for her, they would never produce an heir. She was the last Targaryen. For that reason alone, she needed to reclaim her family's legacy. _I will take what is mine,_ she vowed.

And yet, Dany often wondered about what would come next. _After I sit upon the Iron Throne and claim the Seven Kingdoms, what then?_ She wanted to help people, that had always been her goal. _There has been enough suffering in the world._ However, her experience in Meereen had also taught her much. By the end, even the former slaves hated her.

Her name was everything to her. _After I'm gone, who will be left to carry it on?_ She didn't often think of her cruel brother Viserys, but he was the only family she had ever known. For the longest time, it was only Viserys who kept her company. As they fled the assassins sent by the usurper Robert Baratheon, her brother had kept her safe. _Then love turned to hate._

Her dragons were her only hope. Long after she died, they would rule the skies in her name. Perhaps they could even breed and further the line. Tyrion had mentioned how dragons were genderless, changing from male to female as needed. Dany had always thought of her three children as boys, but they must also be able to lay eggs if her Hand was correct._ I hope so._

"Your Grace!" A voice disturbed her thoughts. She turned away from the prow of the ship to look at the source. Tyrion Lannister came waddling along. "If I may have a word."

"You may." She replied. "You don't need to ask permission to speak. I value your counsel. That's why I chose you as my Hand." Dany hoped she wouldn't come to regret her decision. Tyrion was certainly clever, but his handling of Meereen had been far from perfect. To be fair, Dany herself hadn't succeeded at ruling that place. Perhaps it was an impossible task_._ _At least he's familiar with Westeros._

He raised his hands in a defensive stance, "Just being polite." He walked up to her and stood next to the prow. She noticed his eyes were avoiding the sea, clearly uncomfortable. _Reminds me of the Dothraki._ "I must confess I'd prefer talking with my feet firmly planted on solid ground. This swaying motion brings back bad memories." He closed his eyes with a pained expression.

Dany remembered him saying something about how he fled King's Landing, but she didn't know the full story. "How did you leave Westeros, Lord Tyrion?"

"Trapped inside a crate, pissing and shitting through a hole." He said, without hesitation. "It was Varys's idea, and I suppose I must be grateful that I wasn't discovered before the journey's end, but it was rather uncomfortable." The mention of Varys made her face darken. _The Spider had much to answer for._ "Lord Varys is a valuable asset, Your Grace. His network of spies will be quite useful when we reach Westeros." Tyrion must have noticed her mood.

"I shall deal with Lord Varys in my own way." She knew they were friends, so his opinion on this couldn't be trusted. Dany shook her head. "But I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to discuss."

He looked like he wanted to keep arguing, yet he clearly had a higher purpose for this visit. "Yes. Well, I was discussing our journey with the Greyjoys, and they agree that we must make a few stops on the way."

She nodded. The supplies they had brought from Meereen surely wouldn't last the whole trip. _And my children need some rest too._ "Very well. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Volantis seems perfectly placed, Your Grace." He replied almost instantly. It was obvious he had been thinking about this for a while. "When I passed through it on my journey, it was filled with Red Priests singing your praises." He stopped there, probably remembering something. "The city is also based on slavery, even more so than Slaver's Bay before you turned it into the Bay of Dragons. Perhaps we'll find new allies there." He looked up at her expectantly.

She hated the very concept of slavery. _No person should ever be sold or bought like property._ However, her experience in Meereen had shown that saving people from themselves was a complicated endeavor. Even after she had abolished slavery, some former slaves still longed for their past lives. _Revolutions are much easier to start than to finish._

"I'm not sure I'm ready for another Meereen. I'll help free the slaves, but the people of Volantis must find their own way after that." She said, in a firm tone.

He considered her words for a moment. "I suppose we can try to work with some of their noblemen." He was scratching his chin, clearly thinking hard about this. "There must be a few who'd be willing to make compromises if they can remain in power."

"As long as they agree to free their slaves, I can accept working with them." Perhaps that would make things easier. _Westeros is so close now._ "I've waited far too long to take my rightful place on the Iron Throne."

"Still, Volantis could be a valuable experience, Your Grace. You'll need to work with the Great Houses of Westeros to make sure your reign is stable and peaceful." He hesitated for a moment, before continuing, "I know you've mentioned breaking the wheel before, but perhaps a lighter touch would be preferable."

"_A lighter touch_?" Dany narrowed her eyes. "Speak plainly."

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but you don't know the people of Westeros." He seemed to be measuring his words carefully. _Fear can be a useful tool,_ she mused. And yet, she hoped this man at least could be trusted to speak his mind in her presence. Even if she didn't like what he said. "I know you wish to save the common folk, but making enemies of nobles will only cause them more suffering. I hope our experience in Meereen has showed you that much."

"If they choose to follow me and accept my rule, they won't be enemies." It was simple in Dany's mind. She was the rightful heir, so anyone who challenged that must be an enemy. _And my enemies will die screaming_, just as she had promised her khalasar before her children were born.

"Yes, Your Grace, but they don't know you." He argued, patiently. "Perhaps we could try to convince them of your claim before killing them outright." Raising his right index finger, he drew himself up to his full height. His next words came in a strange voice, almost as if imitating someone, "_The people whose loyalty was harder to obtain will become your fiercest supporters._" He deflated and shrugged, returning to his normal voice, "Or so my father used to say. And my own experiences have proven that to be true."

That last statement made her curious, but she had more pressing matters. "I shall reflect on what you've said. For now, please send Lord Varys to my quarters. It's about time I find out exactly where your friend's loyalties truly lie." She said, in a commanding tone.

If he had anything to say on the matter, he must have swallowed it, because he nodded and set out to find the Spider. She took a deep breath and gazed out at her children one last time, enjoying the sight of fire playing with water.

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Lord Varys entered her room with his customary smile, which never reached his eyes. His smile faltered slightly when he noticed Grey Worm standing right by the door.

"Your Grace." He bowed low. "Lord Tyrion tells me you wish to have a word." He glanced at Grey Worm again. "I assumed this would be a private meeting."

"Don't worry about Grey Worm. He has my complete confidence." She noticed her general stood a little taller, but other than that he displayed no reaction to her words. "Which is more than I can say about you."

His smile finally left his face, replaced with a look of incredulity. "I've been a loyal servant of your House since before you were born, Your Grace." He said, trying to defend himself.

"You have an odd way of showing it. You've served the usurper Robert Baratheon, you've served his Lannister offspring, and you only left King's Landing after Tywin Lannister died and you were no longer safe." She replied in calm fury. Her eyes were narrowing, but her vision remained clear. "Tell me, Spider, how can those actions be considered loyal?"

"Your Grace, do you know a man named Illyrio Mopatis?" She nodded. That man had offered his hospitality to her and her brother during their stay in Pentos. Dany didn't know what that had to do with anything, but she let him continue. "We've been friends since childhood. He has always shared my beliefs about the future of the realm. Our paths have diverged, but our combined actions have the same purpose: to serve and protect the blood of old Valyria. That's why-"

"_Protect_?" She had to interrupt now. "How have either of you protected me? Were you not responsible for the assassins sent for me and my brother? Was Mopatis not the one who sold me to the Dothraki?" Dany balled her hands into fists. "And later, another assassin found me while I was pregnant." The memory of those events would never leave her. "I won't allow you to lie to my face, Spider."

She noticed a few beads of sweat forming on his bald head. "Very well. I did what I had to do to survive." His voice grew stronger with every word. "Robert wanted to kill you and your brother, so I arranged for assassins. But I also made sure they weren't successful. You must have noticed no Faceless Men ever sought you out." Dany had lived in Braavos long enough to know about the House of Black and White.

The Spider continued, "And forgive me, Your Grace, but your brother was the one responsible for selling you. Illyrio told me he'd tried to explain to Viserys how the Dothraki don't understand the concept of debt, but he was ignored. Failing that, he made sure to find the best possible match for you. Khal Drogo was an exception among the Dothraki, as I'm sure you'll agree." Dany nodded without thinking. _My__ sun-and-stars was a giant among children._ When she met the other Khals on Vaes Dothrak, she realised just how lucky she had been, all things considered.

The man hadn't finished, "Your Grace, I admit my actions may have caused you unnecessary pain and suffering. However, I assure you that without my influence your pain would've been far greater. Perhaps even fatal." She wasn't completely sure about that, but she remained silent. "If you still doubt my intentions, I won't resist whatever punishment you believe is fair. But if you allow me to serve, I promise you that I shall take no further action without your explicit consent."

He stood looking at her with expectation. She noticed his hands were trembling slightly. He must have noticed that too, for he resumed his usual stance of putting each hand inside the sleeve of the opposite arm, hiding them from sight.

Dany still couldn't trust this man. And she trusted Illyrio Mopatis even less. The fair punishment she had in mind for him was death. He was too dangerous to be left alive. That's why Grey Worm was here. However, it was hard to deny the extent of his influence. _Could I use that even without trusting him?_

"I will allow you to serve, Lord Varys." He looked visibly relieved, letting out a breath she didn't realize he'd been holding. She wasn't done, however. "But I promise you this: if you ever betray me, I'll burn you alive."

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**I tried to change some of the Dany/Varys dialogue, but it ended up being really close to what actually happened on the show. **

**Fair warning: Though I've written some twenty chapters already, I make no promises about updates. I can write quickly when I'm inspired, but it's not very often that happens. I've only recently started writing again because season eight has been so frustrating. Let's see how far I can take this. Wish me luck!  
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	2. King Snow

**This is another one which skirts way too close to the source material. I considered skipping it, but it was important to put some hints at future events here.**

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** 2\. King Snow - Sansa**

The Great Hall of Winterfell was packed with people. The long tables were filled with the lords and ladies of the North, who were waiting for their king to speak. Jon Snow sat in the middle of the Main Table, _where father used to sit._ Ser Davos Seaworth sat to his right, and Sansa Stark was sitting to his left.

Ghost was sitting on his haunches right behind them, scanning the room with his red eyes. She smiled when those eyes found her. The direwolf had grown large enough to rival a small pony, yet he still managed to sneak up on her sometimes. _He has the North in him, just like his owner._

With his fur cloak and his hair pulled back, Jon looked just like father. She remembered how her mother had hated him for that. Lady Catelyn Stark had always resented the fact that another woman produced a son who looked so much more like Eddard Stark than any of her trueborn sons. Robb, Bran and Rickon all had the Tully coloring, with auburn hair and blue eyes. Jon had the classic Northern look, with dark hair and grey eyes of the Starks of old.

Sansa had been shocked when Lady Lyanna Mormont declared him king. However, from the look on his face she would wager his own surprise had been greater. She was proud of her half-brother. _No, he's a Stark and he's my brother,_ she had to remind herself. They hadn't been very close in their youth. _Not like him and Arya._ Sansa had wanted to be a lady like her mother, so she tried to behave in the same way.

The memory of how stupid she had been brought her shame. _Stupid little girl._ A little girl who believed in fairy tales and heroes and valiant princes. Joffrey was far from valiant. The prince had been awful to her, but nothing came close to how Ramsay had treated her. She could still feel his presence on her body. No matter how many baths she took, or how hard she scrubbed her skin, she just couldn't rid herself of his corruption. She shivered.

"Sansa?" Jon's voice broke through her bad memories. "Are you alright?" He whispered, touching her arm.

"Yes, I'm fine." She said, quietly. He still looked concerned, so she smiled at him. "I'm fine, Jon." She patted his hand and nodded to the room. "They're waiting."

She could tell he wasn't convinced, but he nodded and rose from his seat. After so much time together, she had gotten used to reading his face.

"My lords and ladies." Jon raised his voice. "I know we're still recovering from a battle. One that cost us dear friends and family." He stopped here, and Sansa could tell he must have remembered poor Rickon. She had made peace with his death even before the armies clashed, but Jon had seen Rickon die right in front of him. _At least his last memory was of his brother racing to save him,_ she had told him many times, yet he would only remember his own failure.

"However, we must prepare for the real war." Jon continued. Sansa knew what he was going to say, and she also knew most lords here wouldn't believe him. She hardly believed it.

"The Army of the Dead marches south. We can only stop them with fire, dragonglass and Valyrian Steel." She looked over the long tables to check the reactions, and she wasn't surprised. Lady Mormont was the only one who seemed convinced by his words. _The girl worships him._ The rest of the lords and ladies were shaking their heads and whispering in each other's ears. Some of them had mocking smiles, like Lord Petyr Baelish. Sansa still didn't know how to deal with him.

Jon ignored their reactions. "I want every northern maester scouring their records for mention of dragonglass or Valyrian Steel weapons. I know how rare those weapons are, so I don't expect much on that front. But we'll need dragonglass to defend ourselves."

Lord Robett Glover spoke up. "Your Grace, you've mentioned fire. Isn't that enough to deal with this _Army of the Dead?_" Sansa noticed the way he said those last words and her eyes narrowed. He was lucky Jon was in charge, for she still hadn't forgiven this man for how he acted before they faced Ramsay.

She would punish these traitorous Houses without even losing sleep. Anyone who had sided with the Boltons was either stupid or evil. _We would be well rid of them._ However, Jon was merciful to a fault. He had even pardoned the Karstarks and the Umbers, allowing them to keep their lands and castles. Sansa remembered how Alys Karstark couldn't take her eyes off him. _Another fan._

"Fire stops wights, but not the White Walkers. And those are the real danger, because they can raise the dead." Jon answered. Sansa wished he would change the subject. She could tell they wouldn't be convinced, and the more he spoke the more they whispered.

"Surely the Wall can stop them?" She said, hoping to lead the conversation towards something less divisive.

Jon turned to her. "The Wall has stood for thousands of years, that's true." He said, nodding. "But I can still remember the first wight I ever saw." He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, "It was during my first months at Castle Black. After I took my vows in front of a weirwood tree north of the Wall, Ghost found the corpses of two brothers of the Night's Watch. We took them back south across the Wall to Castle Black, but later in the night one of them was attacking Lord Commander Jeor Mormont." She glanced at Lady Lyanna, who was listening to the tale with her mouth agape.

Sansa looked back to Jon, who hadn't finished the tale. "Were it not for Ghost, I wouldn't have been able to save the man. But it was a near thing. I cut off one of its arms with my sword, and the hand kept moving to grab my ankle. I slashed its face, and those blue eyes kept staring. It only stopped moving after I burned it with the Old Bear's oil lamp."

She looked around the room. Nobody was whispering now. Sansa wanted to smile, but she knew it wouldn't be proper. _Maybe they'll believe him now._

Lord Baelish must have noticed the mood shift too, for he decided to speak. "Your Grace, if they can cross the Wall, then why haven't they attacked yet?"

Jon looked at the man. "I don't know." He said, simply. Sansa sighed. He wasn't used to this, but she knew people hated when their rulers display ignorance. _I'll have to talk to him about this later._ If one didn't know the answer to a question, the proper way to handle it was by offering suggestions.

She tried to help him. "Perhaps they're waiting for us to weaken our defenses. Or perhaps they'll come when the winter grows colder."

Jon nodded. "Our armies have suffered many losses from these past wars. And word from the South tells of another conflict to come. If the Night King waits long enough, perhaps there won't be any resistance when they finally breach the Wall."

"_Perhaps._" Lord Baelish put emphasis on the word, and Sansa knew what he was doing. The whispers came back. _This man is dangerous._ Jon wasn't prepared to deal with his games. She would have to protect him.

"What of this conflict in the South?" She asked, finding a way to change the subject. "Surely you must have contacts in King's Landing, Lord Baelish. Can you offer any new information?" Sansa had to keep him on the defensive.

He offered a short nod and smiled. "Cersei Lannister has crowned herself queen of the Seven Kingdoms, after an explosion at the Great Sept of Baelor. She claims it was a plot designed by the Dornish, who have allied themselves with Daenerys Targaryen." None of this was new information to her, but most of the other lords looked shocked.

"There were many Lannisters and Tyrells gathered at the Sept. The Dornish certainly had ample motive." Offered Lord Yohn Royce.

"And yet, somehow Cersei managed to escape the explosion." Sansa said, slowly. She had spent so much time with the woman in King's Landing that she could almost tell how her mind worked. All of her enemies had perished at the same time._ If Cersei didn't have something to do with that explosion, I'll give up lemon cakes forever._

"And what of Daenerys Targaryen?" Jon asked. "Has she arrived yet? What can you tell us about her armies?" He was looking at Littlefinger expectantly. Sansa was starting to regret this. The man can't be trusted, and Jon shouldn't rely on him alone for information.

"Last I've heard, the dragon queen was still crossing the Narrow Sea, Your Grace." The man smiled as he spoke. "Her fleet was spotted near Volantis, displaying sails with the Greyjoy Kraken, the Martell Sun and the Tyrell Rose. They also claimed to have seen three fully grown dragons." He finished, and the Great Hall went silent.

Ser Davos Seaworth spoke for the first time, "Wait, so she's allied with both the Dornish and the Tyrells?" Lord Baelish nodded. "Then Cersei's accusation makes little sense."

"Indeed." Littlefinger agreed. "It's difficult to imagine Lady Olenna accepting this alliance if the Dornish had killed most of her family."

"The truth is often very different from what we hear." Sansa said. "We must consider the source of the information." She looked over at Lord Baelish, and he gave her a knowing smile. _He must know I was referring to him as well._

Lady Mormont rose from her seat. "Let the South deal with their own problems. We must focus on the northern threat." Sansa noticed a small smile cross Jon's lips. _If this girl were just a little older, Jon would probably marry her._

"Aye. We can't be sure of anything that happens in the south, but we can prepare for the Night King." Jon said, as Lyanna Mormont nodded and sat down again. "The Wall might not be perfect, but it's the only defense we have. Of the nineteen castles along the border, only three of them are currently manned by the Night's Watch." He took a deep breath. "This will not do." Sansa had a bad feeling about this.

After a short pause, he continued, "I want every House to send one fourth of their soldiers to the Wall. They'll meet with Eddison Tollett at Castle Black and organize groups to repair and man the other castles." There were no whispers after this. Every lord rose from their seat and started talking at once, making it difficult to understand their words.

Jon raised his hands to stop them, and the noise died down. They were still standing, however. Lord Glover was the first to complain. _As always._ "Your Grace, do you mean for us to pledge one fourth of our forces to the Night's Watch?"

"You misunderstand me. No soldier will be forced to take the oath if they don't wish it." That made a few lords sit down, but most of them were still standing. "My father once said that a wall is only as strong as the men who defend it." _That was wise,_ she thought, _h__e should mention father more often._ And he continued, "The Wall is far too long to be properly manned by the Night's Watch alone. I once climbed it with the free folk and they didn't even notice us." Sansa hadn't heard that story before.

Tormund Giantsbane spoke up at this, "Aye, I've made the climb more times than I can count, and no crow was ever around to bother me." Sansa didn't know much about the wildling, except that he seemed very fond of Brienne. She glanced over at her sworn shield and noticed the woman was trying very hard to ignore the man.

Lord Royce also seemed to ignore Tormund, if for an entirely different reason. "Your Grace, our armies will be severely weakened if the Lannisters or the Targaryens decide to attack from the south."

"I thought we'd already decided to ignore the southern fools." Lady Mormont offered.

"We'd still have the larger part of our forces ready to engage any threat." Sansa tried to help too.

"We'll have to be ready to defend our land. All of us." Jon seemed to be steeling himself to say something unpleasant. She had that feeling again. "I want everyone, from ages ten to fifty, to practice daily with bows, spears and swords. Including women." Jon finished, waiting for their reaction. It wasn't as harsh as before, but Sansa could tell the lords weren't pleased.

Lord Wyman Manderly spoke up, "Your Grace, you want me to send my granddaughter to war?"

Tormund laughed out loud. "No wonder your people lost so many battles. You're afraid to use half of your forces." He looked longingly at Brienne and added, "The better half, I'd say."

Jon smiled. "Women are just as capable of defending themselves as men. But they'll need to practice, just like everyone else. We're not sending unprepared soldiers to war."

Lady Mormont seemed to agree. "Bear Island has always treated men and women as equals. It's about time the rest of the North understands this." She nodded at Jon, who nodded back. Sansa didn't know much about the famed warrior women of Bear Island, except that Arya used to love them. Growing up, she thought them silly. _Why would a lady ever want to be treated like a man?_ Like many other things, she had been wrong about that too.

Lord Baelish had been suspiciously quiet during this discussion, but he finally spoke up. "Your Grace, I'll have to send word to Lord Arryn in the Vale, but I'm sure he'll be glad to serve." He smiled and bowed respectfully. From what Sansa knew of Robin Arryn, the boy was more likely to throw a tantrum.

Jon nodded. "I think that's enough for today, my lords." He seemed tired now. "Lady Sansa and I welcome all of you to stay at Winterfell for as long as you wish, but for now this meeting is over."

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**Another fair warning: The original draft of this story had Jonsa. I wrote all the way up to their first sex scene, before I realized it took too long to develop my other ideas. I had to remove or change a bunch of hints to that, but some of them remained. So if you catch a romantic vibe coming from them, it's my fault.**


	3. Future Plans

**Finally a completely original one! This was interesting, because it's exactly what I felt was missing during season seven: more intimate scenes. Jon and Sansa specifically needed a couple more, to hash out some disagreements.**

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**3\. Future Plans - Jon**

They were sitting in the solar. Jon had found an old book about dragons in the library and brought it with him. The collection wasn't as strong as it used to be, but he figured the knowledge could help him in the future. _Knowledge is a weapon, Jon. Arm yourself well before you ride forth to battle,_ maester Aemon had once told him.

Sansa had called him to the solar but she still hadn't said anything of relevance, so he just started reading the book. It wasn't an easy read, yet there was a lot of new information. _A dragon can only take one single rider, and until that rider dies, no one else._ He closed the book and considered that passage for a while.

"What?" Jon finally asked. Sansa's blue eyes kept darting away from his face when he looked at her. He could almost feel her brain working in silence. She clearly wanted to say something.

"Nothing." Sansa answered, but she was obviously lying. Jon could tell from the way her nose crinkled when she spoke. He grinned. "What's so funny?" She wanted to know.

He put a finger on her nose. "I know you." Her face flushed a bit. "Don't be embarrassed." She waved his hand away. "I thought we trusted each other now. Just tell me."

"Jon…" Sansa had a serious look on her face. "You need to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"Our position isn't as secure as you might think." She said, slowly. "Most of these lords didn't help us when we needed them, and now we must regain their loyalty."

"I still don't understand why they sided with the Boltons." He had been thinking about it for some time, and it never made sense. Jon forgave them, but he would never respect them.

Sansa turned to look at the fireplace. "Fear can be a powerful motivation." Her voice was distant, as if she remembered something unpleasant.

She must be thinking of her time with Ramsay. _I'm a fool._ "I'm sorry." He said, moving a hand to her shoulder.

She turned her head back towards him. "Don't apologize for something you didn't do."

"You don't have to be reminded of it, though. I'll be more careful." He felt guilty now.

Sansa laughed at that, but it was a bitter laugh. "Jon, I'm reminded of that man every time I go to sleep in my bed." Jon's hand clenched involuntarily on her shoulder. "I can't escape those memories, but I'll learn to live with them." She had a determined look on her face, with her jaw set and narrowed eyes. "Don't change the subject, though." She picked up his hand and held on tight. "We need to talk about your orders." She was glaring at him now.

The way she stared made him uncomfortable. "You disapprove? You won't have to train with a sword. You'd probably look better with a bow anyway." Jon still remembered Ygritte with a bow in her hands. _She was very good._ He doubted Sansa had the same talent, even if she too was kissed by fire.

She pinched his hand, making him pull away. _Ouch!_ "First of all, I'm not going to train with anything. And second, that's not what I was talking about." She said, but he saw the hint of a smile on her face. "You must've realized the lords didn't like your orders." Her face was serious now.

Jon sighed. _At least I tried to lighten the mood._ "They don't have to like them, they just need to obey." He had no time to please everyone. _The dead are coming for us all._

Sansa closed her eyes, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "I thought you'd learned something during your time as Lord Commander." She looked frustrated. "Perhaps leading the Night's Watch is different, but when you lead lords and ladies you must allow them some liberties."

He didn't like being reminded of that. Everything he did as Lord Commander was for the good of the realm, and he was murdered for it. _By my own brothers._

"I could also allow them to die, if we don't do what must be done to prepare." He turned away from her and stared at the fireplace. There was something soothing about those burning logs and the warmth they radiated. Ever since he had returned from the darkness, his body was colder than it used to be. _The fire helps._

"I'm not saying you shouldn't prepare them." Sansa's voice seemed distant. He was still staring into the flames. "But you could be nicer about it. Don't expect them to simply follow your orders without question. You can give them something in return, even if it's not much to you personally, to show them how much you value their effort."

Jon had no patience for politics. It all seemed like a waste of time to him. "I don't like this crown. It weighs heavy." He said, despite the fact that he had no actual crown. _Had Robb even worn one?_ He wondered. "I know how to defeat the enemy, but we have no numbers, no weapons, and most of our people don't even believe me."

"Some of us do believe you, Jon." Her voice sounded closer. "You won't convince the others with words, though. The more you talk about the White Walkers, the worse it gets." She put her hand on his shoulder, making him turn around to face her. "Isn't there some way to show them the threat?"

"I doubt anyone would be willing to join me ranging beyond the Wall." He replied, shaking his head.

She went quiet for a while, scratching her chin. "Wait, didn't you mention that a wight had crossed the Wall to try and kill Lord Commander Mormont?" She asked, eyes wide.

Jon immediately understood what she meant. If they could capture a wight, there would be no need for words. "I suppose we could send word to Edd about that." He said, but there were so many things that could go wrong. "Maybe I should ask Tormund to help."

"A good plan." She nodded. "And... There's something else we need to discuss." She said, avoiding his eyes.

_I have a bad feeling about this._ "What?"

Sansa took a deep breath. "You have to marry someone." He opened his mouth to argue, but she barreled on, "Before you say anything, let me remind you that a kingdom without an heir is exactly what Robert Baratheon left us. After he died, both his brothers fought for the Iron Throne and many suffered."

Jon didn't need the history lesson. "It doesn't matter. None of that matters if we don't defeat the Night King. Everything else is a distraction." He was growing tired of repeating himself.

She sighed. _Maybe she's tired of hearing it too?_ "I know how you feel, Jon." He doubted that very much. "But we have to think about the future too. Once the Night King is defeated, there should be something left. You have to understand that."

He considered her words for a while. "I suppose you have a point." He conceded. "I just…" He sighed. "I never had any hopes of marriage. A bastard name was the only thing I could offer." _What woman would want that?_

"And now you're a king. You can offer a crown."

* * *

**I wanted to describe more changes to Jon after the resurrection. I'll add some more later, but the most important is his need for warmth. This should facilitate a few future subplots.**


	4. The Prince That Was Promised

**Enter Volantis. Originally, I wanted to have Dany deal with the triarchs of Volantis, like Tyrion suggested, but as I started writing it felt a bit off. I remember struggling with it for weeks before figuring out that I could simply skip everything. The main reason I wanted to stop at Volantis was to pick up Kinvara and have this prophecy stuff out of the way.**

* * *

**4\. The Prince That Was Promised - Tyrion**

_Volantis was hot._ That was the simplest way Tyrion found to describe this heavy and humid air which permeated the city. Meereen had been hot too, but there was always a cool breeze in the early hours of the afternoon. That had been a dry heat. There was nothing dry about Volantis. It was filled with people, and it smelled like it too. _It smells like an old whore,_ he remembered thinking when he had first visited the place. The smell hadn't improved.

As their procession entered the Temple of the Lord of Light, Tyrion couldn't help but compare it to the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. _It must be at least three times the size,_ he figured, glancing at the enormity of the pillars, domes and towers flowing into one another as if they had been chiseled from a single colossal rock. A hundred hues of red, yellow, orange and gold met and melded in the temple walls, dissolving one into the other like clouds at sunset.

"Welcome, princess." High Priestess Kinvara said in High Valyrian, bowing low. She was accompanied by six men with matching flame tattoos on their faces. They were tall and muscular, wearing ornate armor over their orange robes. And each carried a long spear. _The Fiery Hand._ Tyrion had read about the private slave army of R'hllor.

"Forgive me, High Priestess, but you address a queen. Not a princess." Lord Varys replied in the Common Tongue. Tyrion sighed, thinking back to their original meeting in Meereen. _Some things don't change._

The woman smiled confidently. "The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn." She said, still in High Valyrian.

"That sounds like prophecy." Tyrion said, trying to remember where he heard it before.

"And you believe this prophecy refers to me?" Queen Daenerys asked. Tyrion couldn't tell if the prospect pleased her just by looking at her face. _She hides her feelings well,_ he noted with some pride.

"All the signs point to you, Your Grace." The High Priestess replied, in Common. _Good, my High Valyrian is rather rusty_. "Well, most of them." She added, as an afterthought.

"That didn't sound very confident." Tyrion didn't care much about prophecies and other religious nonsense, but if enough people believed Daenerys was this chosen savior it might make things easier.

"My faith is unshaken." Came the quick reply. But the priestess sighed. "However, one of our order has recently returned from Westeros with troubling news. It would seem there is another who might fit the prophecy." Her words were measured, almost as if she didn't want to offend.

"And who might that be?" Daenerys sounded more curious than himself.

"Jon Snow, the newly crowned King in the North." The woman answered.

"What?" Tyrion must have misheard the woman. "Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard?" He asked, trying to be sure. _How did a Night's Watch recruit become king?_

"I must admit that all I know about him is what I've been told." The High Priestess said, her voice faltering. "If you wish to inquire further, I can direct you to priestess Melisandre. She is currently researching the ancient texts in our library, but I'm sure she won't mind an interruption."

"We have more pressing matters right now." Daenerys said, dismissively. _We should talk privately later,_ Tyrion made a mental note. Even if she didn't believe it, this prophecy could help our cause. "If what happened at the harbor is any indication, Volantis is about to face a revolution." She finished, gravely.

_So many dead._ Tyrion had hoped to gather allies through diplomacy, but the mere sight of Daenerys and her dragons provoked the slaves to action. Their masters had tried to contain them, and the blood flowed freely. The queen's forces were useless in the ships and the dragons would have simply burned everyone indiscriminately, so all they could do was watch as the madness unfolded. It was only the arrival of the Fiery Hand and their red priests which had brought some semblance of peace.

"Well, I'd love to visit your library." Tyrion smiled, then looked at his queen. "Your Grace, I'm sure it won't take long. I'll return shortly." He knew they should be discussing war tactics, yet his curiosity got the better of him. He still remembered his visit to the Wall so many years ago, when Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and Maester Aemon were so worried about the future that they practically begged for help. _That future is now, and I didn't help._

The queen didn't look very well pleased, but she nodded. The High Priestess made a hand gesture and a young girl wearing a diaphanous silk robe approached her. "Initiate Melara shall guide you." Kinvara said, and the girl started walking. Tyrion followed.

They walked in silence as he examined the temple interior. _How did they get so much gold?_ Everywhere he looked there was a shining statue or a golden sconce. Fires burned all over the walls, on candles, braziers and fireplaces. _They certainly have a theme,_ he mused. There were many slaves working here too, and Tyrion began to worry about how this alliance would work. _Would she accept a slave army following her?_ He knew the answer. Daenerys won't tolerate slavery, that much was certain.

"So how long have you been an initiate, Melara?" He asked the girl, hoping she could speak Common. She couldn't have seen more than twelve namedays. Tall for her age, with willowy legs and a flowing mane of blonde hair, he could tell she'd be a very attractive woman in a few years. _Perhaps that's how they choose._ Kinvara was beautiful, just like every other priestess he had seen so far.

She continued walking, but turned to speak. "This one was chosen ten moons ago, after they bought me at an auction." She sounded proud.

Tyrion sighed. _No, Daenerys won't like any of this._ He refrained from asking further questions. When they reached the massive library doors, the girl greeted the two soldiers standing guard before they pushed the heavily ornamented doors open.

Looking inside, Tyrion had to pause for a moment. _Wow._ Being a lover of books from a young age, he had visited many libraries in his lifetime. This was clearly the largest. Even the library at Oldtown didn't come close to the opulence displayed by these Red Priests. It was five stories tall, each floor filled with books and scrolls on huge shelves.

The girl allowed him a few seconds to admire the view, before saying, "This way, my lord." She started walking along the passageways, up the stairs, on and on, until they reached the top floor. "Priestess Melisandre is over there." She said, pointing to a hunched figure in red robes.

"Thank you." Tyrion offered, as the girl bowed her head and walked away.

He quietly approached the woman, looking around. _This must be where they keep the oldest books._ He could see ancient scrolls in foreign tongues, with the words barely visible. And heavy tomes with their stitching coming apart at the seams. Tyrion was about to grab a copy of _The Fires of the Freehold,_ when he heard a woman's voice.

"Tyrion Lannister." Priestess Melisandre rose from her reading table, staring at him with piercing red eyes. "You're a long way from home, my lord." She sounded more curious than anything else.

Tyrion regarded her for a moment. She was indeed a beautiful woman. _Are there any ugly priestesses?_ Looking closely, he noticed a sparkling red gem on her neck. He tried to remember if the High Priestess had one too, but he couldn't recall.

"My home is wherever my queen goes, my lady." He replied, with a smile.

"Yes, Daenerys Targaryen…" She also smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The Promised One, if High Priestess Kinvara is to be believed."

"You don't share her faith." He tried to catch a glimpse of what scroll she had been reading, but he couldn't make it out.

"Prophecies are open to interpretation, and we are only human. Humans do err." There was a hint of sadness to her voice, but she quickly changed her tone. "I believe there's another who better fits the description."

"Jon Snow." He supplied. _Could it be true?_ That young boy who rode with him to the Wall so many years ago had grown up to become a king.

"He is Azor Ahai reborn to save the world from darkness." She spoke with fervent ardor.

"Why do you believe so? The last time I saw him, he didn't look very impressive." Tyrion tried to goad the woman. He had actually enjoyed the company of the bastard of Winterfell during their trip. _I'm sorry to see you leave,_ the boy had said. And that was something he didn't hear very often.

She smiled. "He's the only one who has faced the enemy and lived." She said, simply.

"_The enemy_?"

"The War for the Dawn has already begun, and Jon Snow is the only one who's doing something about it. Dark forces rise beyond the Wall."

Tyrion felt a chill. He remembered mocking the young man on their journey to the Wall. _Grumpkins and snarks might be real after all._ His rational mind refused to believe it.

"If he's that important, why aren't you with him now?" He wondered aloud. This woman had whispered in the ears of Stannis Baratheon during his campaign to claim the Iron Throne. If Jon really was this hero of legend, it would be even more important that he should rule the Seven Kingdoms.

She looked down, her eyes unfocused. "My prince is too noble for his own good. He's the Lord's chosen, yet some of my methods were beyond his sense of morals." She sounded both proud and frustrated at the same time. "He has banished me from the North. Since I cannot be by his side, I decided to learn more about the prophecy." She said, moving her arm in a sweeping motion towards the scrolls on the reading table.

"And what have you learned?" Tyrion was curious. The extent of his knowledge on prophecies was admittedly limited, for he had never truly believed them. _Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head._

She hesitated, probably considering how much to divulge. "Most of the texts don't reveal anything more than what I already knew, but there is a reference to _Blood of the Dragon._ It seems the promised prince must have Targaryen blood." She said, slowly.

"Well, then it must be Daenerys. She's the last Targaryen." That should settle any doubts.

"Perhaps." She replied, frowning. "Though... What do you know about Jon Snow's parents?"

"Everyone knows Lord Eddard was his father, and there was no dragon blood in the Stark family. Are you suggesting his mother had Targaryen blood? I suppose it's possible, though the options are limited." He tried to think about the identity of this mystery woman. Tyrion knew Ashara Dayne was rumored to have developed a relationship with the young lord of Winterfell many years ago, before Robert's Rebellion. However, despite their purple eyes the Daynes had no Valyrian descent. And beyond the late lady Ashara, the other candidates weren't noteworthy. _Lord Stark knew how to keep a secret._

"I often doubt what everyone knows." She said, almost in a whisper.

He had to laugh at that. "If you think Eddard Stark lied about fathering a bastard, it's obvious you didn't know him very well."

She smiled, eyes afire with certainty. "The answer is simple, my lord. If Jon Snow is the promised prince, and if the prince has dragon blood, then Jon Snow must be of Targaryen descent."

Tyrion considered arguing with her, but something told him it would be a waste of time. _Never argue with fools or fanatics,_ his lord father had once taught him. The man had been a horrible father, yet Tyrion couldn't deny his wisdom.

* * *

**I know the big battle would have been fun to read, but that's really not why I'm writing this. Battles can be boring if you aren't invested, and I didn't want to waste time developing characters who wouldn't be involved in the story.**

**As a side note, Tyrion is a fun POV to inhabit. I can see why Martin likes him so much.**


	5. Proposal

**A short one, mostly to set up other stuff. **

* * *

**5\. Proposal - Sansa**

"My lady?" Brienne's voice disturbed her concentration. She had been knitting another cloak for Jon. _A white one, to match Ghost._

Sansa dropped her hands to her lap. She had called for Brienne a while ago, but the woman usually spent her afternoons practicing in the yard. Sometimes she was joined by her squire, Podrick Payne. He wasn't very good with a blade, though. The few times she had watched them fight, she felt sorry for him.

"Please send for Ser Davos Seaworth and Lord Petyr Baelish. I will meet them in the drawing room." Brienne nodded and left the room. She knew she couldn't trust Littlefinger, but the man had spies everywhere. He'd find out about her plans eventually anyway, so she might as well include him. And Jon trusted Ser Davos more than anyone else. Together they might find a middle ground.

She looked down at the mass of white furs and leather, then stored it safely in a chest and went to the drawing room.

Lord Baelish was already there, waiting for her. "My lady." He smiled and bowed low. "I've been meaning to speak with you privately for some time. I'm glad you've finally-"

The door opened, and Ser Davos came walking inside. "My lady." He said, bowing to her. Then he glanced at Lord Baelish. "My lord." He looked from one to the other with a furrowed brow. "What's this about?"

Sansa cleared her throat. "This is about Jon." Ser Davos narrowed his eyes. _Such loyalty..._ She grinned. "Or rather, about Jon's wife."

Ser Davos looked confused. "His Grace isn't married."

Lord Baelish understood, however. "You wish to find him a good match." She nodded, and he continued, "Wise. An unmarried king can cause uncertainty. And the best marriages can forge strong alliances." She could almost see his brain working out the possibilities.

"I won't force him to do anything. No one can do that." Sansa had more experience than most with forced betrothals. She won't allow that to happen to Jon. "But the Northern lords aren't exactly pleased with his decisions. Perhaps a wedding could bring us all closer together." She finished, looking at Ser Davos to see his reaction.

The old knight looked uncomfortable. "Shouldn't he be a part of this discussion? He won't like being the last to find out about his own wedding."

"He knows enough." She replied._ Even if he didn't like it._ "I've discussed it with him a few days ago, but I called you both here to help me find suitable candidates."

Lord Baelish smiled. "A northern lady would surely secure their loyalty. However, the North needs allies. Southern allies." Sansa never liked it when this man smiled. _He's up to something._

Ser Davos was lost in thought. "I'm afraid the past wars haven't been very kind to the South. Not many options left." He was right. The Baratheons, Martells and Tyrells had been wiped from the board. Well, the Martells were represented by Ellaria Sand.

"Perhaps a Sand Snake?" Sansa offered, not really meaning it.

Lord Baelish shook his head. "Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell's daughters aren't in complete control of Dorne. Their coup wasn't very well planned, so when they killed Prince Doran and his son Trystane, many lesser Houses chose not to follow her."

Ser Davos seemed interested. "Ellaria swore for Daenerys Targaryen, didn't she?" Sansa nodded. "And what about the dragon queen? Is she married?" The old knight inquired.

Lord Baelish considered. "My sources claim she had both a husband and a paramour during her stay in Meereen, but the husband died and she left her paramour there when she sailed to Westeros."

Sansa didn't like that at all. Was a husband not enough for her? _And how did the husband die?_ Had she grown bored of her paramour, and that's why she left him? That's all without considering the possibility that she might be mad. Targaryens were known for that.

Ser Davos didn't seem as conflicted. "So she might be available for a betrothal."

Lord Baelish nodded. "She'd be the best match, I believe. If my sources are correct, she commands the biggest army. It'd be wiser to join her than to oppose her."

Sansa was still hesitant about this. "Is there truly no alternative?" She didn't like the idea of her brother marrying this dangerous woman.

Lord Baelish smiled. "I suppose he could simply marry a northern lady." He was looking at her with interest. "But he must marry, my lady. It's imperative for a king to have heirs."

"I know Alys Karstark has been trying to catch his eye." She remembered the girl couldn't take her eyes off of him whenever they shared a room. "Perhaps marrying a former enemy would send a strong message. I'll speak to him first."

Ser Davos made to leave, but Lord Baelish cleared his throat. "Since you've raised the subject, I must also impress upon the need to find a suitable match for you, my lady." He said, without a hint of self awareness.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was cold._ How dare he?_ After the last marriage he had arranged, Littlefinger should be the last man to offer her advice on this.

He must have sensed her fury, for he tried to avoid her eyes. "I only meant that you could help your brother by forging new alliances yourself."

Ser Davos noticed her anger too. "I believe Lady Sansa has had enough arranged marriages for a lifetime." He said, looking at Littlefinger with narrowed eyes.

The man bowed his head, but he didn't give up. "We are all slaves to circumstance, good Ser. Lady Sansa could remain unmarried and free. But freedom has its price. Wise rulers would surely sacrifice their personal happiness for a good alliance, if it meant protecting their people." He finished with that smile of his.

Sansa was tired of his voice, even if his words made sense. "I'll consider it." But she couldn't imagine going through yet another marriage. "For now, I think we're done here."

* * *

**I'm going to start putting a date at the end of each chapter, to keep some sort of record. It should be the date of publication. And if I edit them later, I'll add that date too. In a Day/Month/Year format.  
**

**The date is 15/05/2019**


	6. Change of Plans

**The last chapter in Volantis. I had a lot of information about the place in my head, so why not put some of that here?**

* * *

**6\. Change of Plans - Daenerys**

Flying over the city of Volantis, Dany looked down at the Black Wall. She could see the massive structure of fused dark stone, an impressive bulwark to keep the heart of the city beyond the reach of common men._ Not dragons_, she mused.

The city had fallen within days of her arrival. Most of the fighting was done by slaves, who seemed to have been simply waiting for a sign. And the richest people were the ones with the most slaves, so whatever diplomatic approach Tyrion Lannister had been planning went away when the triarchs and their families died in the bloody revolution.

Volantis had only been restored to some semblance of order by the combined efforts of the Red Priests and the Widow of the Waterfront. Dany was impressed with the old woman. With her thin hair and scarred cheeks, she gave the impression of weakness to hide a true strength underneath. Tyrion had mentioned how every slave obeyed her before they arrived, and she had proved to be a valuable ally. She would remain in Volantis to oversee the restoration.

The Red Priests had other plans. High Priestess Kinvara had insisted on joining the alliance on the way to Westeros, claiming that nothing was more important than the War for the Dawn. And with her, the Fiery Hand. Dany had personally witnessed their prowess in battle, so she would be foolish to deny the help. From a slave army._ I'll have to find a way to free them later._ The Temple had also provided ships, increasing the size of her fleet.

They were just about ready to leave, after Tyrion had informed her the supplies they needed were being loaded into the ships. Dany just needed to see what had happened with her own eyes. Piles of burning corpses littered the streets, filling the air with that familiar acrid smell. _At least I didn't have to burn anyone this time,_ she thought, but she might as well have. _They fought for me._

As Drogon flew over the Long Bridge across the mouth of the Rhoyne, Dany spotted a robed figure trying to catch her eye. _The Spider._ She guided her child towards a nearby clearing and landed, dismounting from his back.

Lord Varys came to meet her. "Your Grace." He bowed low. "I trust you've seen what you needed to see?"

"I saw fire and blood." She said simply. Reflecting on all the places she had visited with her army, her family's words were appropriate. Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen probably won't recover anytime soon._ And now Volantis._

"You mustn't blame yourself, Your Grace. It seems the people needed only a spark."

"I suppose that's true. But I'm sure you didn't come here to talk about that." She knew this spider wanted to weave another web.

"True." He nodded. "Since we're about to leave Volantis, I was wondering if you've decided upon a destination in Westeros. Or, to put it bluntly, I wanted to know where you plan to make your landing." Dany had thought about it quite often. And she had even discussed a few options with Tyrion.

"King's Landing was my first choice." She wanted to see his reaction.

He was taken aback, visibly shaken by the prospect of a frontal assault. "Y-Your Grace, I don't think-"

She raised a hand to interrupt him. "I know." _At least he's willing to voice his objections._ "Lord Tyrion and I have discussed this at length. We'll lay siege to the capital when the time is right, not before."

"So you have decided on a place, then?"

"Dragonstone." It made sense in her mind. Aegon the Conqueror had launched his conquest from that island, after all. And Tyrion had assured the place was deserted after Stannis Baratheon left for the North.

"A wise choice, Your Grace." He nodded. "However, if I may be so bold, I believe a brief stay in Dorne might be necessary."

"Why is that?" She had to ask.

"Our allies were told to gather their armies there. And Sunspear is closer. You could meet with them and coordinate a strategy before heading off to Dragonstone." There he was, making plans without her approval again.

"_They were told?_ By whom?" She tried to keep her anger in check, but it wasn't easy.

Varys hesitated a bit, swallowing hard. "Oh, it happened long before we met in Meereen, Your Grace. I had just worked out the details of our alliance with Ellaria Sand and Lady Olenna Tyrell. They needed a place to gather, and Dorne seemed to be the safest choice." His voice was calm, but beads of sweat were forming at his brow.

"Very well. I'll discuss the matter with Lord Tyrion. If that's all…" The man bowed and left, walking as fast as he could without running.

She took a deep breath. _How can I work with people I can't trust?_ Even Tyrion Lannister's loyalty was questionable. Especially once they reached Westeros. _Will he truly go against his own family?_ Dany wasn't so sure.

Glancing up, she spotted Drogon flying with Rhaegal and Viserion. _My children would never betray me._ She knew she could trust Missandei and Grey Worm too. And her Dothraki would die for her. Yet she couldn't help feeling as if something was missing. _Maybe I'm just lonely._

She started walking back to the ship. It was easier said than done, since every former slave who spotted her wanted to say thanks. _I didn't do anything,_ she wanted to say. What happened in Volantis had been a prime example of why waiting for saviors was unnecessary._ They saved themselves, really._ This she did say more than once, earning even greater thanks from those who heard it.

By the time she reached the harbor, there was a crowd following her.

"Your Grace!" Tyrion Lannister came waddling along. He craned his neck to the side and smiled. "I see you've gathered an escort. Should I tell the Dothraki to find another job?" He quipped. _At least he's funny. Sometimes._

She smiled back. "Not yet, my lord Hand. We still have work to do." She turned around and tried to count how many were following her. She lost count at fifty. "However, we can't turn away our new recruits. Find them a place in our ships, and arrange for suitable training." She paused. "If they want to join us, of course."

He nodded and set about following her orders. Dany glanced around. Volantis had a massive harbor, big enough to house most of the ships in her fleet. She noticed the addition of a few new vessels, bearing the flag of the Red God. A large red heart, surrounded by orange and yellow flames. _The Fiery Hand._

She could see Kinvara aboard the biggest one, ordering her soldiers. Her soldiers. Tyrion had been clear about that problem. _The Fiery Hand will only follow the High Priestess,_ her Hand had said. Dany was still somewhat conflicted about them. Tyrion said their faith could be useful, but she knew better. It didn't matter how much they believed some prophecy about her, blind faith was always dangerous._ I'll have to keep an eye on them._

"They can still be useful." Tyrion's voice made her turn her head back. The dwarf was looking at the High Priestess. "I must confess I'm not very religious myself, Your Grace. However, people need to believe in something." He turned to look at her. "Why not let them believe in you?"

She sighed. "I don't suppose I have much choice in the matter." She remembered all the other prophecies surrounding her life. Mirri Maz Duur had cursed her to be barren. _When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves._

Dany didn't care for prophecies. _They are only words, and words are wind._

Tyrion frowned. "Actually, after speaking with Lady Melisandre, it seems there is a choice."

"Yes. The so-called King in the North." She couldn't recall his name. "What do you know about the man?" Dany knew things were complicated in Westeros, but there shouldn't be any kings or queens in the North._ The Seven Kingdoms are rightfully mine. All of them._

He put a hand on his chin and started scratching his beard. "Jon Snow is Lord Eddard Stark's bastard. The identity of his mother has always been a well-guarded secret. I doubt even Lord Varys knows the truth."

"Who cares about his mother?" She asked, exasperated. "I want to know if he'll be an enemy or a potential ally." Dany shook her head, raising a hand to her temple. She was growing tired of having to tell people how to do their jobs.

Tyrion widened his eyes. "Yes, of course. I believe he could be an ally, Your Grace. The Starks have suffered the most under Lannister rule." He hesitated, then continued, "While I doubt they have fond memories of Targaryens, they would never ally with Cersei. Of that I am certain."

"Very well." She nodded. "If he's willing to bend the knee, I'll consider it." She won't compromise on that. "We'll discuss this further when we reach Dorne."

"Dorne, Your Grace?" He asked, confused. "I thought we were going to Dragonstone."

"Apparently, Lord Varys had arranged for our allies to meet us in Dorne. At Sunspear, to be precise." She tried to keep her voice even.

His eyebrows shot up. "I suppose it's closer. And we could send some of our forces over land. The Dothraki are useless at sea."

"Give them some credit. They're the first Dothraki to cross any sea." Dany felt protective of them. There were times she seemed more Dothraki than Westerosi._ I know far more about them._ "It's their culture. They don't trust water that horses can't drink."

"Well, it does take a certain amount of bravery to face one's fears." His face became contemplative, probably remembering something from his past. "Regardless, if we have the opportunity to use them in the open field we'll hold an advantage. I've been meaning to discuss a plan to take Casterly Rock."

Now it was Dany's turn to be surprised. "Is that so? You'd attack your own home?"

He shook his head. "Casterly Rock hasn't been my home for years. My late lord father saw to that." His voice sounded bitter. She still couldn't believe he had killed his own father._ Should I trust someone like that?_ Dany's own father was rumored to have been mad, but none of his children had killed him. _There's only one Kingslayer, and he's a Lannister._

* * *

**Exit Volantis. It was definitely interesting to find out more about the place. GRRM is fantastic at worldbuilding.  
**

**The date is 15/05/2019**


	7. Visitor

**Well, this is even shorter. There are still some nuggets of info here, so I couldn't simply skip it.  
**

* * *

**7\. Visitor - Jon**

Alys Karstark was squeezing his arm tightly as they walked along the castle grounds. For such a young woman, he had been surprised to discover a large bosom hidden underneath her heavy furs. She clearly knew this, for his arm hadn't left her side ever since they started walking together.

"Do you really not remember?" She asked, looking at him with her big blue-grey eyes. Alys had been telling him of a time when she visited Winterfell with her lord father, and she had danced with both Robb and himself.

"Forgive me, my lady." That must have been a very long time ago. "I'm sure it was a good memory, but lately it seems I can only recall the bad ones." Jon was looking at a patch of snow on the ground._ I won't forget that._

She grabbed his arm even tighter, so he had to stop walking. _They are really big._ "Then we simply must dance again." She leaned into his ear. "I'll make sure you don't forget this time." She whispered, with a suggestive look.

Jon's eyes widened as his imagination ran wild. His gaze went from her bosom to her face and lingered on her mouth. She noticed it and licked her lips, moving her head towards him. He leaned over and...

"Your Grace! My lady!" A loud voice made him turn his head.

It was Sansa, walking with Brienne right behind her. She put on a pleasant smile as she approached them. "I'm afraid I'll need to borrow my brother, Lady Alys. There's an important matter we must discuss." Alys seemed disappointed, but she nodded and excused herself, pecking him on the cheek before leaving.

"So what's this important matter?" He asked, looking from Sansa to Brienne.

Brienne helped. "There's a visitor in Winterfell, Your Grace. He requests an audience with the King in the North." The big woman said, looking between them.

"And who is this visitor?" He asked, more than a little surprised. They hadn't received many visitors these days. _Winter has come indeed._ Most people just wanted to stay in their warm homes and dream of Spring.

Sansa supplied the answer, "Lord Howland Reed. You remember how highly father spoke of him." He did remember. The crannogman had been father's best friend, which only made his absence even more curious. _Where was he when father needed him? Or Robb? Why only now did he leave Greywater Watch?_ "We must treat him with respect, Jon." She said, almost reading his mind.

"I wonder why he's only decided to come now." He voiced his thoughts, hoping Sansa could explain it.

"Well, he did send Meera and Jojen to help Bran." She said, looking up at the clear sky. _I hope they're well too._ The last time Jon had seen his young brother was before he left Winterfell for the first time, when Bran was still unconscious from the fall.

"So where's Lord Reed?" He asked, finally ready to face this mysterious man.

* * *

**I wanted to have the big reveal happen in Sansa's POV, so I had to cut here. Sorry about that. And I know Alys Karstark is described differently in the books. Call it my interpretation ;)**

**The date is 16/05/2019**


	8. Revelations

**Enter Howland Reed. The most mysterious man in the world. He's also fun to write, because there's almost no limit to what I can do with him. He's an unknown entity.  
**

* * *

**8\. Revelations - Sansa**

Howland Reed wasn't an impressive man. Short of stature and slight of build, with a matted brown hair and light green eyes, he favored his right side and leaned on a walking stick. He was wearing a green leather jerkin armored in bronze scales, under a cloak which resembled leaves from a weirwood tree, in a brownish red color. There was a long bronze knife hanging on his belt and a frog spear strapped to his back.

Everything she saw fit the description of crannogmen she had heard before, save for a brilliantly ornamented sword hanging on his belt, on the opposite side of his knife. _How did he get that blade?_

As Jon was examining him, Lord Reed went to one knee. "The years have passed in their hundreds and their thousands since my folk first swore their fealty to the King in the North. I pledge the faith of Greywater, hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you. I swear it by earth and water. I swear it by bronze and iron." He looked up and stared Jon in the eye. "I swear it by ice and fire." His voice hadn't wavered at any point during that long vow, but he seemed to give more meaning to this last phrase.

_Ice and fire?_ Sansa wasn't familiar with this oath, but it sounded ancient. The mention of bronze and iron also seemed to relate to the First Men somehow. She knew the blood of the First Men flowed in her veins, just like it did for every Stark, because her father had mentioned it so many times. _Perhaps the Reeds also share that blood._

"Rise, my lord." Jon smiled and helped the man to his feet. "The Reeds and the Starks have been allies for as long as I can remember. And my father spoke very highly of you, lord Reed." The man gave him a strange look, but remained quiet. So Jon continued, "We accept your fealty, from this day until our last day."

There was something about this man's eyes. The way he stared, it was almost as if he could see beyond what everyone else saw. For some reason, he kept staring at Jon. _What does he see?_

"Your Grace," He bowed, then turned to Sansa. "My lady." He glanced at Ser Davos and Brienne, before turning back to Jon. "We've received your orders to find dragonglass and Valyrian Steel. While Greywater Watch doesn't have much in the way of dragonglass, I've brought you a gift." He said, unbuckling the sword from his belt and presenting it hilt first.

Jon hesitated for a moment, but grabbed the sword and pulled it from its scabbard. Sansa gasped as the blade reflected the light from the fireplace. It shone with such intensity that it almost seemed to burn. Brienne also made a sound, clearly impressed. Jon began waving it around for some reason she couldn't understand. _Maybe he's testing the weight?_

Ser Davos narrowed his eyes. "Did House Reed have an ancestral blade, my lord?" The old knight inquired. He was suspicious and didn't bother to hide it. She had to admit she was curious too.

Lord Reed didn't seem to be insulted, as he barked a laugh. "No, I'm afraid my family wasn't that lucky, good Ser." He shook his head and turned back to Jon, his face serious. "The tale of how I came to carry this sword is best told in private, Your Grace."

Jon looked over at Sansa, who nodded. "Ser Davos, Brienne, would you please leave us?" She asked, trying to sound polite. "And make sure nobody enters this room while we're talking." They both walked out without question.

Howland Reed was still glancing at her, so Jon cleared his throat. "Anything you wish to tell me, Sansa will also hear it. If not now, I'll simply tell her later." She beamed at him. She had been feeling guilty ever since the battle, when she didn't tell him about her deal with Littlefinger. But they had promised to trust each other after that.

Reed looked between them and nodded. "Very well." The man went over to check the door. After he made sure it was locked, he continued, "That sword you hold is _Dark Sister,_ Your Grace." Jon gasped, but when he saw that Sansa didn't know what he meant, he explained, "Along with _Blackfyre,_ it's an ancestral blade of House Targaryen."

"But… How?" Jon asked, as he examined the blade closer. Sansa followed his eyes along the length of the sword. The flame designs really jumped out at her now. There were rubies and golden details everywhere. She didn't know much about swords, but Jon seemed enthralled just by looking at it.

"Lord Stark never told you about your mother, did he?" Lord Reed asked, causing Jon to turn his head so fast, she was worried he might have hurt his neck.

Jon didn't answer immediately, but his eyes were unfocused. She had always wondered why father never told him,_ or anyone for that matter,_ about this mystery woman. This was yet another reason why her mother had hated Jon so much. _Father must have loved her dearly, if he couldn't even bring himself to speak of her._

Sansa grabbed his hand, trying to comfort him. It couldn't have been easy for him, living all these years not knowing something so important as your own mother's name. They interlocked their fingers and Jon turned to face the man.

"He… Didn't have time." Jon replied, avoiding the man's eyes. _He's ashamed._ She squeezed his hand.

Howland Reed looked at him with sad eyes. "I see." He took a deep breath and continued, "Well, it's about time you learned the truth, then." Jon was squeezing her hand tightly. "You might want to sit down, it's a long tale." He took a seat and waited for them. Sansa led him to two chairs and sat down next to him. Jon was still holding on to _Dark Sister_ for some reason.

"Before Ned returned to Winterfell with a baby boy, we went to Dorne with a few loyal friends. Robert Baratheon had already defeated Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident, Jaime Lannister had killed the Mad King, and Gregor Clegane had killed Elia Martell and her children." The man couldn't hide his disgust at that last event. Sansa remembered her lord father had felt the same, since he wouldn't speak to his friend Robert for a long time after that.

"In short, the war was over." Reed continued. "But for Ned, the war would only end after he found his sister Lyanna. His search led him to a place some called the Tower of Joy." He paused to look at their faces. "It's at the northern edge of the Red Mountains of Dorne. It was a long journey, but we made it there. However, our way was blocked by two kingsguard. Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower."

"What were knights of the kingsguard doing all the way down in Dorne?" Sansa asked.

Howland Reed didn't hesitate to answer. "They were guarding the heir to the Iron Throne, of course." Sansa made to speak again, but he continued, "Rhaegar had married Lyanna before he left for the Trident. Lyanna was inside that Tower, giving birth to the future king of the Seven Kingdoms. She didn't survive long after childbirth, but she made Eddard promise to keep her son safe, for she knew Robert wouldn't have allowed another Targaryen to live. Lyanna had named her son Aegon, but Ned found it safer to call him…"

Sansa gasped and finished for him, "Jon." She heard a clanking sound and turned her head to see that Jon had dropped the sword.

Reed pointed at the sword on the floor and said, "We found _Dark Sister_ with her. She mentioned Rhaegar had received it as a gift from an old relative, and he wanted to leave it for his son." _His son,_ Sansa thought. _Jon is a Targaryen prince._

"Do you have any proof of this?" Sansa asked, knowing the implications. If what this man says is true, Jon has a claim to the Iron Throne. _A better claim than Daenerys Targaryen._ Rhaegar was the crown prince, so when Aerys died the crown passed on to his firstborn. And then to his sons. If Jon was his last surviving son...

"Other than the sword and my word, no." Howland Reed replied simply. "I'm the last living person who bore witness to Lyanna's death. Nobody even knew she was pregnant, and most people believe Rhaegar took her against her will." Most people believed that Lyanna was raped by Rhaegar, she knew. _I wonder why?_

"But why didn't they explain it to everybody?" Sansa wanted to know. _Marriage is a holy ceremony, regardless of the faith._ No wedding was truly secret. She herself had been married twice, once before the Seven and another before the Old Gods. "Uncle Brandon went south to challenge Rhaegar, then grandfather Rickard went to try and save his son. Both of them ended up tortured by the Mad King."

Howland Reed sighed deeply. "I'm afraid I don't have all the answers, my lady. Perhaps a simple letter could've prevented many deaths. Perhaps that wouldn't have changed anything. Aerys had earned his title of Mad King long before he burned your family." He said, looking sad.

Sansa finally turned around to face Jon. _I've been so stupid!_ While she was busy wondering about his claim to the Iron Throne, she forgot to consider how he must be feeling after all this.

"Jon? A-Are you… Well?" She had been holding his hand for a while now, but now she realized his grip wasn't as tight as it was before.

He pulled his hand free and rose from his seat. "I…" He started, but his voice was hoarse. "I'll need some time to think." He finished, moving away to leave the room.

* * *

**This was actually the second draft of this chapter. I had initially written this from Jon's POV, but it felt off. I wanted to discuss the Targaryen succession, but it just didn't work from Jon's mind because he doesn't care about that. **

**Also, it's tough to work such a big reveal from the POV of the person it affects the most. Jon would probably stop listening about halfway through. And I went with the show version of the Tower of Joy battle, due to recency bias.**

**Finally, the sword. I was torn between Dark Sister or Blackfyre, but ultimately I thought Dark Sister was more believable. Though I admit it's a bit contrived. My reasoning is that Bloodraven left it with Aemon, who sent it to Rhaegar. I'm not sure if Blackfyre will show up yet. I'm still considering it.**

**The date is 16/05/2019**


	9. Queen's Landing

**Dany lands in Dorne and deals with Ellaria, Olenna and the rest of her allies. I wanted to add Arianne Martell, since she's one of the few additions I liked in the later books, but it'd be weird within the context of the show. **

**I'm considering another fanfic, this time starting over from season 5 (or from S04E10 - The Children). I would definitely add Arianne and a bunch of other book characters, not to mention change some story arcs I didn't like very much. Of course, I'd have to change the story enough to be different from this one. **

**I don't know, it's just an idea. Let's focus on this one first. ******It's much closer to the end.****

* * *

**9\. Queen's Landing - Tyrion**

"Dorne is yours, Your Grace." Ellaria Sand greeted the queen, bowing low. Tyrion couldn't hide the grimace on his face. _Myrcella._ This woman and her Sand Snakes had killed an innocent girl. Her only crime was being a Lannister. _And I sent her to a nest of vipers._

Sunspear had been a pleasant change from Volantis. The weather was similar, yet the air felt a bit lighter. _It smells far better too._ He closed his eyes and sniffed the dornish red being poured into his cup. Opening his eyes, he glanced around. _They must hate walls,_ was his first thought. The room was filled with tall archways, most of them opening to the outside where a beautiful fountain stood in the center of a garden, spraying water high into the air.

"Thank you for the warm welcome." Queen Daenerys spoke, bringing his attention back. "It's a nice change from the last city we visited." She smiled and took a seat closer to the garden. _She must have noticed the view too._

There were no wooden chairs in the room, but the seats were made of a very comfortable fabric. Tyrion almost sunk into the fluffy sheets. _This feels more like a bed,_ he thought, looking at the soft pillows.

Ellaria smiled back and took a seat too. "Yes, I've heard about Volantis." She ran her eyes across High Priestess Kinvara, before returning to the queen. "I trust everything went well?"

"As well as could be expected. Most of the fighting was done by the former slaves." The queen motioned towards Kinvara. "Though without the Fiery Hand things could've gotten much worse." The red priestess nodded in thanks, but remained quiet.

"Well, now that we've all settled down, let us discuss how best to go about killing Cersei." Lady Olenna Tyrell was dressed in black, clearly still mourning the loss of most of her family.

_The woman seeks vengeance. So do I, _he thought bitterly._ How many enemies has my sweet sister created?_ He briefly wondered if he might become the last Lannister, before remembering his brother. _I hope Jaime has the good sense to leave her before the end._

The queen looked at Tyrion for a moment, before replying, "Indeed. The Iron Throne belongs to my family. Cersei has no place there. The sooner we remove her the better." She hesitated, looking around the room. "Since all my allies are gathered here, this is a good opportunity to hear what each of you have to say." She motioned at him. "My Hand and I have worked out a strategy, yet I'd be remiss if I didn't hear you too. Have any of you considered the best way to end this war?"

The room was quiet for a while. _Nobody wants to speak first._ Then Yara Greyjoy stepped forward. "You have the biggest army. You have the biggest fleet. And you have three dragons. A frontal assault is the best choice. If Cersei is smart, she'll flee to Essos before you can burn her bony ass."

He shook his head. "My sister isn't smart. She thinks she is, though. And a frontal assault would be a mistake."

"Why?" Ellaria's voice was filled with scorn. "Maybe you just don't want to see your family die."

"Cersei has earned her punishment." He took a deep breath, trying and failing to keep his temper in check. "Unlike Myrcella." He glared at the woman. "She was an innocent girl. And you murdered her."

"She was a Lannister." Ellaria spoke the word as if it was poison out of her mouth.

"Not all Lannisters are the same." He wanted to go on and explain the difference, but he simply shook his head. _There's no reasoning with this one._ "Enough of this." He took another deep breath to gather his thoughts. "The reason why a frontal assault would be folly is the same reason I won the battle of the Blackwater when Stannis Baratheon stormed the gates of King's Landing: Wildfire."

"What do you mean?" Yara Greyjoy asked.

"I've already mentioned this to Queen Daenerys, but it's about time everyone else knows too." He gathered himself. "When my brother Jaime killed Aerys, the mad king had been about to blow up the entire city." He paused here to let the information sink in. _Jaime was too proud to say something, the fool._ "Imagine what Cersei did to the Great Sept of Baelor, but everywhere. Thousands upon thousands of people burning alive from wildfire."

He continued, "If Cersei believes she's about to lose, what's to stop her from doing what Aerys couldn't? I'm not sure my brother will be there a second time." _Or if he would be willing to stop her._ Tyrion didn't dare to voice that thought. He was still figuring out a way to convince the queen to allow his brother to live.

They all stopped to consider his words, allowing him to take another sip of his Dornish Red. _Not as good as Arbor Gold, but better than the dog piss I've had to drink in Essos._ He glanced at the others. Varys was smiling at him. Ellaria seemed conflicted. The Sand Snakes looked bored, making faces at each other. Lady Olenna was looking at the fountain outside. Missandei was sneaking glances at Grey Worm, who stood so still it was a wonder how he breathed. Kinvara was looking back at him, her eyes burning red. _She does have a ruby on her neck, just like Melisandre._ He briefly wondered why, before moving on. Yara was frowning. And Theon was trying to blend into the wall. _What did the Bolton boy do to him?_

"Very well." Queen Daenerys spoke up, and everyone paid attention. "I suppose we'll go with the original plan, then." She motioned to him. "Lord Tyrion? If you would explain."

He cleared his throat and called the servants to clear the table. After they were done, he unfurled a map over it. They had gone over the details during the voyage, and it was much better when he could point to a specific place.

"We'll divide our forces here." He pointed at where they were, Sunspear. "The fleet is strong, but not everyone is able to fight at sea. The Dothraki will fare better on land." He turned to Ellaria and Olenna. "I'm told your armies are gathered here?" They nodded. "Good. Our first target is Casterly Rock."

He pointed at his childhood home on the map. "The better part of the Dothraki and at least half of each of your armies will march here. It should be a long march, but don't bother keeping it secret. In fact, make sure everyone hears where they're going. I doubt Cersei will fall for the bait, however." If he knew his sister, she would never risk a battle without being assured of victory. _Unless her children were involved. Or Jaime._ _  
_

"No, the more likely answer will be a retreat." Tyrion pointed at King's Landing. "She'll call her forces back to the capital. They'll move along the Goldroad." He traced his finger on the line. "That's where we get them." He allowed himself a small smile.

"Over here." He pointed at Storm's End. "Is where the rest of our forces will land. They'll ride hard to intercept the Lannister force and take them by surprise."

"That's all well and good." Lady Olenna said, frowning. "But I still haven't heard exactly how you plan to take King's Landing. Hoping they'll surrender?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "Cersei will never surrender. No, our best bet is to erode her support. She'll lose Casterly Rock. She'll lose her army. Even if she can't see reason, the people around her will." _Hopefully,_ he added mentally. "And if she's alone, her threat is gone. I doubt she would light the wildfire herself. Cersei was never one to sully her own hands." _It was still a gamble,_ he had to admit. There was nothing stopping her from burning everything anyway. _Yet it was far safer than bringing dragons to the Red Keep._

"So you plan to stay at Storm's End, Your Grace?" Ellaria asked.

The queen shook her head. "No. I will make for Dragonstone with the rest of the fleet. Should we need to lay siege to King's Landing, my family's ancestral island is in the perfect spot." She glanced at the map, then raised her head. "Are there any further questions?"

"Yes. Have you given any thought to the North?" Lady Olenna asked. "I hear they have a new king now."

Tyrion saw the queen's nostrils flare. "I will deal with him later. Lord Tyrion assures me he could be an ally, but I don't know him. And I doubt his forces would be of any use to us at this moment." She sighed. "He's too far away to make a difference, either for us or against us."

Lady Olenna nodded. "True. However, if you want an old woman's advice, don't ignore him. This Jon Snow has ties to the Vale and the Riverlands. That's almost half of your Seven Kingdoms." _That's true,_ Tyrion considered, kicking himself for not realising this sooner. _Jon could very well prove to be a problem in the future._ The Queen of Thorns continued, "The easiest solution is to marry him and be done with it."

"_Excuse me?_" Queen Daenerys was taken aback. _But that really was an excellent solution,_ Tyrion had to agree. It solved several problems at the same time.

"You're young and unmarried. He's young and unmarried." Lady Olenna had the bored air of someone tired of explaining the obvious. "Why not? It's a good match. From what I hear of the boy, he's quite valorous in battle and easy on the eyes too. He won't stay unmarried for long."

"Yes. Well. I'll think about it." The queen seemed uncomfortable with this discussion.

"You must consider the future, Your Grace." Lady Olenna didn't relent. "Wars come and go, but what the realm needs is stability. The people need to know who rules now and who will rule later. For that, you'll need heirs. Sons and daughters."

"Enough!" Queen Daenerys stood up. Tyrion had gotten better at reading her moods, and he could tell she was angrier than usual. _She can't have children._ He knew that, but the people must never know. She took a deep breath, then continued in a calmer tone, "I appreciate your counsel, Lady Olenna." Turning to the others, she pointed at the map on the table. "You all know what to do. If there's any further doubt, I'm sure Lord Tyrion will be happy to clarify. If you'll excuse me."

And with that, she left the room.

* * *

**This was more interesting than I thought it would be at first. I enjoyed writing Olenna. Maybe she'll stay alive, I haven't decided yet. **

**So the wheels are in motion. But remember: whenever a plan is laid out so clearly, it will always fail.**

**The date is 17/05/2019**


	10. Fallout

**I had to rewrite this one too. The original version had Jon dealing with this major revelation a little too easily. Something drastic needs to happen. His entire identity has been crushed. **

**Warning: a lot of _italics_ in this one. We're diving into his mind.  
**

* * *

**10\. Fallout - Jon**

Jon opened the door and ignored Brienne standing guard. He kept walking without really noticing where he was going. He heard some people greet him, but paid them no mind. When he stopped walking, he looked up to see a great weirwood tree with a face carved on its trunk. His legs had led him to the godswood.

Ghost was already there, watching him with those intense red eyes. His massive direwolf was about the size of a pony now, yet he still managed to stay silent when he wanted. The wolf padded along the snow to sit beside him. Jon patted him on the head and rested his hand there, as he looked over at the weirwood heart tree.

So many years ago, he remembered coming here almost every day to pray for the Old Gods. He would pray for Lady Stark to accept him, he would pray for his father to convince the king to legitimize him, but most of all he would pray to be just like Robb. _My whole life, I wanted to be him._ Jon had loved his brother almost as much as Arya, but sometimes he would notice how Lord Stark looked at him with so much pride in his eyes…

_When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with pain._

"Why?" he said aloud, hoping the tree could provide an answer. The wind rustled some leaves, but there was no reply.

_I've never been a bastard._ There was something funny about that. Throughout his entire life, that had been the one thing he knew about himself. _The Bastard of Winterfell._ He believed Eddard Stark was his father. He had tried to honor the man with every action he took. Whenever he doubted himself, he would think: _What would my father do?_

_He would lie._

His whole life had been a lie. He had suffered Lady Stark during his youth at Winterfell, he had joined the Night's Watch, and he had died at his post, all without knowing anything. _You know nothing, Jon Snow._ He laughed bitterly, startling Ghost by his side. _That's not even my real name._

"Jon or Aegon…" He whispered, wondering what would happen if he demanded to be called Aegon Targaryen from now on. He laughed again, and Ghost turned his head sideways to look at him in a funny way. The wind rustled the leaves once more, and this time he thought he heard something. He couldn't figure out what the voice had said, but it was definitely familiar. _Was that Bran?_

_Now I'm hearing voices. Maybe I really am a Targaryen._ He had to leave this place. _There are no answers here, only bad memories._ Everywhere he looked, he could see his father. _Lord Stark is my uncle now._ His mind was full of conflicting thoughts. His aunt was his mother and his father was his uncle._ Ugh, I need a drink._

From his experience, that was easier said than done. After he became king, everyone in the North treated him differently. _Almost everyone,_ he corrected himself. During his visits to Winter Town, he had discovered a quiet tavern on the western side of the market square. The owner, an older man called Thommel, had always made sure to treat him the same way he treated everyone else who visited the place.

Jon still didn't feel like explaining himself to anyone, so he said goodbye to Ghost and went to his quarters to pick up a cloak that covered his head. _Maybe I won't attract too much attention with my face hidden._ He also changed into something less regal: a brown tunic and grey leathers. He had met Ser Davos on his way in, and the man was still standing outside his room when he left.

"Where are we going, Your Grace?" The old knight asked him, after looking at his clothes. "Or is this a secret outing?" He added, in a lower voice.

Jon hesitated for a brief moment, but figured the man deserved an honest answer. "I'm going for a drink." Ser Davos nodded, and started walking away. "You're welcome to join me, if you'd like." He added, without thinking. _Drinking alone isn't a good idea._

The onion knight stopped and turned around. "Of course, Your Grace. Where are we going again?" He asked jovially.

"A quiet tavern in Winter Town." Jon couldn't remember the name, though he remembered it made him smile when he saw it. "And while we're there, please don't call me Your Grace. Or Jon Snow, for that matter." He figured it'd be safer that way.

He nodded, "So _it is_ a secret outing. But what should I call you, then?"

Jon considered saying Aegon, but thought better of it. "Call me… _Grenn._" He answered, thinking back on the brave brother of the Night's Watch. _He held the gate against a giant._

"Very well. Lead on, Grenn." Ser Davos said, moving to one side of the corridor. They walked together in silence. Some people recognized Jon in the castle, but once they were outside nobody even looked twice at the hooded man.

When they reached the tavern, the old knight said, "Ah, the _Merry Widow._" He nodded. "Thommel's place may not be very popular, but the ale's good." _Why did I think that name was funny?_ Jon didn't feel like smiling now. He just wanted to drink until he stopped thinking so much. "Let's go inside."

Thommel raised his head as the two walked in, but made no mention to greet them. Jon glanced around and saw only three other people, one sitting alone and two others talking quietly. These last two also had hooded cloaks, so Jon didn't remove his own when he took his seat.

A tired young woman walked up to their table to take their order, leaving right after without even glancing twice at him._ It worked._

"Something on your mind, Grenn?" Ser Davos asked him. The man had a worried look on his face, probably wondering why a king would need to drink so badly.

"I've recently learned something that changes everything. My whole life…" Jon couldn't go on. _At least not without a drink first._

"Is it worse than dying?"

The laugh came easily, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Aye, it's worse." He answered, just as the woman came back with two mugs and a large pitcher of ale. Jon didn't hesitate and poured himself a full mug of ale, drinking deep.

Ser Davos paid the woman, waiting for her to leave before going back to the conversation, "What could be worse than that?"

Jon poured himself another mug while he answered, "Imagine living your entire life believing in a lie." He drank again before continuing, "That the person you trusted the most had been lying to you since you were born." He finished his second mug and started pouring again. "And then imagine learning about this lie only after you'd died."

The old knight sat silent for a long time. Jon had finished his third mug by the time he replied, "It's hard to imagine, I'll admit it." He drank for the first time.

"Now I have to decide if I want to continue living with the lie, or if I should tell everyone the truth." Jon was in the middle of another mug. "Whatever happens, nothing will ever be the same." He stopped drinking for a while, looking at the half-empty mug and wondering about the future. _This isn't working at all. I'm still thinking too much._ He drank the rest.

"I won't ask you what the lie is about. There's no telling who might be listening." Ser Davos said, glancing at the table with the two hooded figures. Jon couldn't even tell if they were men or women. "But it seems to me you've already made a choice." The man finished, giving him a pointed look.

Jon poured another mug and nodded. "Aye, I have." He took another gulp before continuing, "I won't let people follow me based on a lie. They deserve to know the truth."

"You didn't need to drink to figure that out." Ser Davos looked at him drinking his _...fifth? No, maybe it's still my fourth mug._ It was hard to keep track.

Jon didn't stop drinking, but replied anyway, "I wasn't drinking to think clearer. I just wanted to…"

"_Forget?_" The onion knight was perceptive as always. Jon nodded, and the man continued, "Believe me, J-, uh... Grenn." He caught himself on time. "Ale won't solve your problems. It just creates so many others that you'll end up drowned in them." There was a strange look in his face, probably remembering something from his past.

Jon hesitated, bringing his mug down. "I suppose we should go back. I'll have to…" He couldn't remember. _Maybe I drank too much._ He rose from his seat a little too quickly and swayed in place. Davos went to his side much faster than his age should have allowed and put a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady.

"Easy, there." Davos said, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. "You'll want to move slower now, unless you wish to show us what you ate for breakfast."

He laughed loudly, "I like you, Davos." Jon patted the man on his chest. "You always know how to keep things light. I'll need that."

"Thank you, Your G-, uh… Grenn." Davos replied, with an awkward smile. "Now let's get you back to your room. What you really need is a good rest."

They walked back to Winterfell at a slower pace, with Davos walking right next to him, ready to catch him if he tripped. Jon didn't trip once, though the roads did look a bit twisted to his eyes. When they reached the East Gate, he stopped for a while.

"Do you think anybody recognized me?" Jon asked, lowering his hood. His attention had been focused more on his mug than anything else, so he might have missed something.

"I think one of those hooded people did, but I'm not sure who they were." Davos said, scratching his beard. "They stopped talking when you started, which was odd."

"Well, I didn't say anything too important." Jon wasn't worried about this, though it could be the ale in his head.

"I don't suppose you did, but any information could be valuable in the right ears." Davos replied. Jon had no idea what he meant by that, so he was about to ask him when he heard a familiar voice coming from behind.

"Your Grace!" Turning around, he saw the smiling face of Alys Karstark coming closer. "I was just thinking about you." She leaned in for a kiss and he could almost smell her perfume.

He put his arms around her and brought her closer, leaning in to her neck. _Lavender._ "You smell lovely." Jon whispered in her ear, feeling her face grow warmer.

"Th-Thank you." She whispered back, in a weak voice. She sounded nervous at first, but he felt her relax in his arms. He felt other things too, and when his mind started wondering he heard a light cough. _Davos._

Jon let her go and introduced them. "Lady Alys Karstark, this is Ser Davos Seaworth. My finest advisor."

"My lady." The man inclined his head slightly.

"Ser Davos." She replied, still looking a bit flushed. She was wearing a black woolen cloak with the white sunburst of the Karstarks. Jon found himself watching her, wondering what her body looked like underneath those furs. He knew she had large breasts, but that was all.

"Your Grace." Ser Davos said, a little too loudly. "Should we move on?"

"Uh.." Jon's eyes were still wandering. He blinked a couple of times and smiled. "Don't be rude, Ser Davos. I'm sure Lady Alys here can escort me the rest of the way." He turned to face her. "My lady?" He asked, holding out an arm.

She hooked her own arm around his and pressed close. _There they are,_ he mused, feeling her breasts pushing up against him. "Where are we going, Your Grace?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Jon leaned in closer and whispered, "To my chambers."

* * *

**I was hoping to add more to this chapter, but it got way too big as it was. I guess I'll have to keep Jon drunk a little longer than I initially intended. At least it opens up more possibilities.**

**I have no plans to add Bran's POV. I have no idea how to write his whole Three-eyed Raven stuff, so I'll just steer clear from that. He'll show up later, though.**

**The date is 17/05/2019**


	11. Fathers

**Sansa's reaction to the big reveal. I'm still upset we didn't get to see how the Stark sisters reacted in season eight. Hopefully it's a deleted scene, but I doubt that very much. It felt like a deliberate choice. **

**The wrong one, for me. This secret is the most important thing in the whole story. It was the answer to this very question which had convinced GRRM to allow Benioff and Weiss to create the TV show. So how Jon's closest family members reacted to the revelation would be important too. Obviously.  
**

**I have yet to write Arya's reaction, but I promise I won't skip that.**

* * *

**11\. Fathers - Sansa**

After Jon had left in a hurry, she moved to pick up the fallen sword. _Dark Sister._ For some reason, the name reminded her of Arya. The last time they saw each other was years ago, in King's Landing._ Where was she now? Was she even alive? How would she react to all this?_ Knowing her sister, she would probably still love Jon unconditionally.

"My lady?" Lord Reed's voice startled her. Turning around, she saw him raise his hands and dip his head. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to cause such confusion." He said, looking at the door.

Sansa gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't blame yourself. Jon might need some time now, but I'm sure he'll be grateful to have finally learned the truth." She said, wondering where he went.

"I see." He nodded. "Well, I should be going. I've been meaning to visit the Wall before I return to Greywater Watch." He said, moving towards the door. He stopped shortly before opening it and turned around. "Unless… Do you have any further questions?" He inquired, looking at her expectantly.

Sansa considered him for a moment. This man was a treasure trove of information, _but what could I ask him that he hadn't already answered?_ She didn't know, yet it seemed unwise to allow him to leave. "Are you in a hurry to reach Castle Black?"

"No, not really." He replied quickly. "I just wanted to be closer to the place I heard my children were last seen, in case they return." _Meera and Jojen Reed. And Bran._ She hoped they were safe, but the lands beyond the Wall were dangerous. _Especially if what Jon says is true._

"Then would you mind waiting here in Winterfell for a while? I don't know what Jon's planning to do with this information, but you're the only witness. Perhaps we'll need you." She said, trying to make it sound like he had a choice. _If he decides to leave, I'll have to keep him here against his will._

Lord Reed nodded. "Very well. I suppose it couldn't hurt to remain here a little longer. Perhaps Meera will find me." _But not Jojen?_ She found that strange, but decided to let it go.

She smiled. "Thank you, my lord. I'll make sure a room is ready for you. In the meantime, you're welcome to explore the castle grounds or Winter Town as you please." He nodded again and left.

Brienne noticed her alone in the room and entered. "My lady." She greeted. "Is something wrong?" She asked, concern plastered on her face.

"Did you see where Jon went?" Sansa wanted to talk to him. _He shouldn't be alone, or he might do something stupid._

"No." She shook her head. "He seemed… perturbed."

"I need to find him." Sansa tried to think where he'd go. If she had received such news, she would want to see her father. _The Crypt?_ "Brienne, please inform the household staff that we'll have a new guest staying with us. Make sure they prepare the room closest to the godswood." She knew lord Reed followed the Old Gods, just like father.

The tall woman nodded and left to follow her instructions. Sansa gripped the sword she was still holding and went to the Crypt. It wasn't a long trip, since the crypt was located fairly close to the First Keep. When she reached the ironwood door, a memory transported her back to her childhood.

_Robb was leading her, Arya and Bran deeper and deeper into the crypt. During the walk, he had been telling them a story about a long-dead King of Winter who was betrayed by his own family, vowing to return and haunt every new generation of Starks. When they reached the statue of the dead king, she started hearing strange noises. The sound grew louder and louder, until she finally saw it: a deathly pale figure rose slowly from the back of the statue and raised his hands. Sansa screamed and ran away as fast as her legs could carry, with little Bran right behind her._

She smiled at the memory. It was only later that she learned it had all been a trick to scare them. That ghost was Jon, covered in flour. Only Arya hadn't fallen for the trick, probably because she knew him so well. _She'd recognize him even if he had a different face._

Sansa entered the crypt, holding the sword aloft._ I should've brought a lamp._ The sword was shiny, but it only reflected light. It wasn't completely dark, for a few lanterns provided a faint orange glow.

"Jon? Are you here?" She asked the darkness, but there was no reply. "If this is another trick, it won't work this time." She waved_ Dark Sister_ around.

"Impressive blade." Littlefinger's voice made her snap her head back to the entrance. "I wonder where you've acquired such a rarity, my lady." He said, descending the steps towards her.

This could be trouble. _How do I explain it without revealing too much?_ "Ah, yes. This was brought here by a loyal Northern lord, as our king requested." She quickly moved her arm to let the sword rest behind her, obscuring his view. _Perhaps he didn't get a good look._

He nodded. "So it must be Valyrian Steel." He said, slowly. "It's difficult to believe anyone would willingly part with such a valuable item." He was smiling in that odd way again. _I hate that smile._

"The lords of the North are known for their loyalty. The North Remembers." She said, giving her own fake smile. She knew from experience that wasn't true. When they needed help against the Boltons, very few Houses came to their aid. _At least House Mormont remembered,_ she mused.

He was about to say something else, but she interrupted him. "What are you doing here, my lord? This is a sacred place for my family."

"Forgive me, my lady." He said, bowing his head. "I've been meaning to have a private word with you, yet it seemed an impossible task lately. I'm afraid this was the only way." He looked around, probably making sure they were truly alone._ I should've brought Brienne with me. Or Ghost._

"Very well. You have my attention." She figured he would simply keep trying if she kept avoiding him, so she might as well hear what he has to say.

He glanced at the entrance again before speaking, "I wished to continue the discussion you began a few days ago." He took a deep breath and continued, "I believe I've found the perfect candidate for you. Lord Robin Arryn."

"Is that so?" She tried to keep her voice from rising. "You'll forgive me if I'm hesitant to believe you after the last time you arranged my wedding." Sansa was angry, but something still didn't make sense. "Wait… Didn't you tell me once that all you've ever wanted was seeing me by your side on the Iron Throne? How would this marriage help you achieve that end?" She asked him, fully expecting another lie. _Only a fool would trust Littlefinger._

He smiled again. "Lord Arryn has become… _troublesome_ lately. And in my experience, weddings are a great way to remove trouble." He said, still with that smile on his face._ Even privately, he's careful with his words._

She decided to play along. "I see." She nodded. "So control of the Vale would fall to me?"

"Yes, if his… _accident_ were to happen after the wedding." His voice grew more confident. "We could also arrange for him to drink essence of nightshade on the wedding day, to make sure he sleeps soundly during the bedding ceremony." She was disgusted with this plan, but she had learned to control her emotions a long time ago.

"I'd prefer that. I'm rather tired of wedding nights." She said, trying very hard to keep her face from displaying any emotion. "I suppose this could work. Do I have to answer right now?" She asked, stalling for time.

He shook his head. "No, not at all. I merely wanted to see if you were open to the idea. I have my answer." _You have nothing,_ she wanted to say, but held her tongue. _Let him believe._ "It should take some time to put the plan into motion. I shall return later." With that, he bowed and left the crypt.

Sansa waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, before letting out a loud sigh. She looked around, searching for her father's statue. It was only a few steps ahead. She stared at his face for a moment. _I guess not everyone can be a good father,_ she mused, thinking of Littlefinger's plan. Jon was lucky. _He didn't have a mother, but he had the best father anyone could have asked for._

Then she glanced around for… _Aunt Lyanna._ Her statue was standing right next to father's and uncle Brandon's. She was the only woman with a statue here, proof of how much father had loved her. _Jon is also a living proof of that._ She was beautiful. Now that she knew, Sansa could almost spot the resemblance. _I think I've wasted enough time._ She had to find him before he did something he might regret.

* * *

**This is the beginning of the Sansa arc, which will grow apart from Jon's arc. I won't spoil anything here, but I just wanted Sansa to have her own thing going on.  
**

**The date is 18/05/2019**


	12. Dragonbinder

**The plan goes wrong.  
**

* * *

**12\. Dragonbinder - Daenerys**

Dany awoke with a start, gasping for breath.

As her heartbeat slowed, she tried to recall the details of her dream. Something about… _the sea? Yes, that was it._ A dragon was drowning, and there was nothing she could do to help. _That was odd,_ she considered, _my children can swim._ There were other details in the dream, but they escaped her memory as fast as she tried to remember them, and soon she forgot everything.

After calming down, she rose from the bed. Glancing out of the cabin window, she couldn't make out much in the darkness. Dany took a sip of the water jug she kept nearby._ I need some air,_ she thought, between gulps. She quickly got dressed and stepped outside.

The_ Balerion_ was quiet at this time of night. The few sailors who were awake bowed respectfully as she passed them, but otherwise continued with their work. The Greyjoys kept their crew happy, no doubt worried about rumors of their uncle amassing a fleet of his own. Not for the first time, Dany reflected on the coincidence that most of her allies were about to fight a war against their own family. _The gods are cruel, indeed._

Her eyes went to her family. Viserion and Rhaegal were flying overhead, just low enough to avoid the ship's masts, while Drogon seemed to be resting. His massive weight made the ship move much slower, but he needed the rest. Dany was considering riding with him ahead of the fleet, to see what awaited them at Storm's End.

"Can't sleep?" A voice made her turn around. Yara Greyjoy came walking towards her from the helm of the ship. She wasn't the captain of this vessel, yet Dany had given her full authority over the entire fleet as the most experienced naval commander.

"Bad dream." Dany replied without thinking. She couldn't remember much now, only the fear that had made her wake up.

Yara smiled and sidled closer. "I could help you sleep, you know." She said, licking her lips. "I promise you'll be… _satisfied_ with my help." Her eyes seemed to linger on Dany's mouth, before going over the rest of her body.

_She looks hungry._ Dany couldn't help feeling tempted by the offer. It had been too long since she had shared her bed with anyone.

Dany smiled back. "I'm sure I would be. However, now that I'm awake, I'd rather stay that way." She turned to look out over the water. "How long until we reach Storm's End?"

If Yara was disappointed, she didn't show it. "If the winds are kind, it won't be long. No more than a week, I'd wager." She glanced up, probably feeling the wind somehow.

"Good." Dany had lingered in Dorne only long enough to give their land forces a head start. Tyrion's plan was a good one. If his information was correct, Casterly Rock had been financing the realm for years._ Their gold mines must be quite valuable._

"If you wish to move faster, I can be of service." A new voice made Dany turn around again. High Priestess Kinvara came striding towards them, her long red robes seeming almost black in the night. "A sacrifice to the Lord of Light shall grant us speed, Your Grace." She spoke with confidence.

"I don't think that will be necessary." The longer she spent listening to this woman, the less certain Dany felt about this alliance. It would be hard enough to convince people to follow her without adding the complication of preaching a new faith. _This is a terrible idea_, she had told Tyrion many times since they left Volantis. Yet the man was adamant about their importance.

Yara seemed amused by the woman. "Did you have trouble sleeping, Priestess?" She asked, with a smirk. "Does your Red God send you visions to keep you awake at night? How rude of him." Her voice was dripping with mock sentimentality.

Kinvara smiled too, her eyes almost glowing red. "I'm awake simply because I do not require sleep." She then reached for Yara's arm with surprising speed and gripped tight. "Beware the one-eyed crow. He flies tonight." Releasing the shocked Greyjoy, she turned to Dany. "Before the sun rises, Your Grace will want to move faster. Look for me then." And with that, she walked back towards her quarters, her long red robe billowing behind her as she moved.

"A strange woman." Yara regained her composure, rubbing her arm. "I think she was talking about Euron, but that makes no sense. He should still be rebuilding the Iron Fleet back home." Despite her words, she still looked concerned.

Dany shook her head. "Don't worry too much about it." She had had her fill of prophecies. "In my experience, people who claim to see the future often just like to hear their own voices. And they are just as often wrong." She remembered the crones of the _dosh khaleen_ during her first visit to _Vaes Dothrak._ They had promised her son would be the stallion who mounts the world. _And yet, Rhaego was stillborn._

Yara nodded. "I hope so. We're not ready for an attack now." She glanced at some point to the west. "Just in case, I'd better go check on our defenses. Your Grace." And she left too.

Dany wasn't worried, but she walked over to Drogon. _Flying would provide a better view._ If something were to happen tonight, she should be on Drogon's back. When she got closer, her child opened his eyes and fixed her with a stare.

"Let's go for a ride." She told him in High Valyrian. He unfurled himself and waited patiently. When she was about to climb on his back, she heard a loud bang followed by the cracking sound of wood breaking. Following the sound with her eyes, she saw the mast of a ship falling into the sea.

The alarm was sounded, and sailors were waking up everywhere. She couldn't see very well what was happening in the darkness, but Yara came running. "EURON!" She yelled, as the sounds of cannon fire continued to break the silent night.

Suddenly lights were popping everywhere, most of them from lanterns. Though she could tell some of her ships were burning already. Now that she could see better, Dany paid more attention to the chaos. The _Balerion_ and the other ships scouting ahead seemed to be doing fine, but their right flank had been the initial target. And they seemed to be firing something other than cannonballs, for each hit had caused a small explosion. _I'll send some fire back their way._

"Let me see what I can do." She told Yara and climbed on Drogon's back. As the dragon took flight, she tried to keep her mind focused. She needed to find Euron's flagship and take him out. Rhaegal and Viserion joined their brother as they searched, patiently waiting for her order to unleash their fiery breath. _We have to be careful, or we might hurt our own allies._

Looking down, Dany had a better view of what was happening. _We're losing._ That much was obvious. Euron's fleet had taken them by surprise and several of her ships were already on fire. Yara seemed to be trying to gather the remaining ships into a tighter formation, but it was a slow process. Their fleet was better prepared for naval warfare, while Dany's fleet was mostly just carrying her army.

_An army which is being destroyed_. Her soldiers weren't sailors, even if most of the Dothraki were already on the way to Casterly Rock. _The plan is ruined._ She made a mental note to discuss her options later, as she witnessed the ship with Ellaria Sand being boarded. The woman had insisted on joining her, for some reason. Lady Olenna had been more pragmatic and stayed behind.

Viserion got distracted by something off to the west and flew away, while Rhaegal continued to follow them. _There!_ She spotted the biggest enemy vessel. The galley had one mast with black sails and what seemed to be a red hull, though it could be the glare from the fires blazing all around it. There was also a strange figurehead on the prow, but Dany couldn't tell what it was from this distance.

She led Drogon down and got closer. Rhaegal was lighter and faster, managing to fly ahead. When she could make out the smiling face of a man with an eye-patch she knew it was close enough. _Time to finish this._

"Drac-"

_AWOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo_

_Aaaah! _She put her hands over her ears, but that made almost no difference. The shrieking sound coming from that ship made her blood boil. She felt the pain of a thousand needles piercing her skin at the same time, and even her eyes failed her for a moment. All she could see were stars, yet she knew Drogon was falling.

Dany willed her mind to keep Drogon in the air. A fall from this height probably wouldn't kill them, but she couldn't help remembering her dream. _No dragon will drown tonight._ After some effort, she felt Drogon change direction and fly away.

She blinked a few times and regained some of her sight, feeling a little better. Dany patted her child's back in a soothing way, reassuring him. _What was that?_ She would have to ask someone later. _Now we must flee._

Whatever that was, it had rendered her and her dragons useless. Without her dragons, this battle was already lost. Glancing around, she spotted Viserion flying at a distance, but Rhaegal was nowhere to be seen.

_Where is he?_ The last time she saw him… She turned back towards Euron's galley and saw what she feared. Rhaegal was in the water, thrashing in pain. _NO!_

She resisted the urge to go help him. That sound would just cause her to fall again. And if she fell… _If I look back, I am lost._ No, she needed to save whatever remained of her fleet. She landed back on the _Balerion_ and looked for Kinvara. _The red woman was right all along._

Luckily, the High Priestess was already waiting for her. "I'm assuming you'll require speed now, Your Grace?" She asked, without a shred of modesty.

Dany nodded, impatient. "What about this sacrifice? What do you need?"

"It's not about what I need, only what the Lord of Light demands." She opened both of her arms wide, as the fires raged all around her. "R'hllor demands blood."

Dany looked around. "Isn't all this blood enough? Surely enough people are dying tonight to meet whatever demand your god requires."

Kinvara smiled. "Men die every day, Your Grace. And wars are fought for many reasons. The Lord of Light cares not for the squabbles of men. If you want His attention, you'll need to offer up a life."

_Only death can pay for life._ Dany's doubts were growing by the hour. She looked out at the enemy ship. It was far enough, but she could still make out that Rhaegal had stopped thrashing, and a net had been thrown to capture him. _Damn them._ "Fine, then. Who's the sacrifice?"

Kinvara clapped her hands and two soldiers of the Fiery Hand came, each clasping one arm of a man who looked terrified._ He knows what's about to happen._

"What's your name?" Dany asked the man.

Kinvara forestalled him. "Do you truly wish to know that, Your Grace? His life is forfeit. You might as well call him _wind_, for that is what his blood shall become."

Dany knew the woman was no stranger to this kind of ritual, but in her mind she owed it to him to at least be able to remember his name.

"I will hear his name." She spoke with determination.

The man seemed even more scared now, having to address the queen. "G-Gwynt, Your G-Grace." He stuttered eventually, keeping his eyes down.

"Do you understand what is expected of you?" She didn't know why she needed to hear him so much. _I don't want to do this, there has to be a better way._

He nodded, beads of sweat trickling down his brow.

Dany stood facing him for a few seconds, before turning to Kinvara. _I can't do this._ "No. Release him." _The soldiers didn't move_, she noted.

The High Priestess was taken aback. "Your Grace, I've seen what will happen if you don't do this. Look around!" She turned and spread her arms. "This battle is lost. Your enemy has already claimed one dragon." She then pointed at a terrible scene.

Dany couldn't believe her eyes, but Rhaegal was burning her own ships. Squinting, she could make out the shadow of someone on his back. _Is that Euron?_ _How did he manage to tame my child?_ And if he could do that…

"Do it." Her voice was steel. _If I look back, I am lost._

Kinvara clapped and the soldiers worked to tie up the man to a small boat on the side of the _Balerion._

The High Priestess intoned, "Lord of Light, please accept this humble offering from your loyal servants. Allow his blood to grant us the speed to escape our foes. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

"The night is dark and full of terrors." The soldiers of the Fiery Hand echoed, as they pulled on a few ropes and released the boat into the sea.

Kinvara made a hand gesture and the boat caught on fire. Gwynt started screaming in pain, his voice failing as the flames grew stronger. Eventually, only the fire could be heard, consuming both man and boat until they both sank into the depths.

Dany started feeling sick. _What have I done?_ Then, a massive gust of wind buffeted them. The sails filled quickly, and within seconds they were moving much faster than before.

Dany turned back to see Rhaegal flying in the distance._ I'll save you. I don't know how, but I will. I promise. A dragon is not a slave._

* * *

**This one was a challenge. Action scenes are complicated to write. It's one thing to imagine it, but quite another to turn it into words. I hope it was clear enough. **

**I know what you must be thinking: Why Rhaegal? But what about Jon? Don't worry, I have a plan.  
**

**And sorry about the Dany and Yara tease. The original draft had a scene of them together, but I couldn't work out a nice transition. I'll try to make up for it in the future. **

**Also, I forgot about Tyrion here. My bad. He was supposed to be in the same ship, but I really had no lines for him. I just wanted to show Dany making up her own mind.  
**

**The date is 18/05/2019**


	13. Warmth

**Jon feels some warmth. **

**Warning: mildly graphic content. But it's important for story reasons ;)  
**

* * *

**13\. Warmth - Jon**

Lying in bed, Jon felt a warm presence on his chest. He opened his eyes to find Alys Karstark's naked body on top of him. _Wait, what? How?_ He had so many questions on his mind, but the woman stirred.

"Hmm…" She moaned, moving her arms around him in a hug. She seemed to be trying to get more comfortable, as one of her legs went up between his own before she finally rested again, breathing deeply.

_What happened yesterday?_ He tried focusing on that, but he found himself distracted. Her large breasts were pressing up against him, and without those heavy clothes he could feel her hard nipples. Suddenly, a memory came to his mind._ He was lifting Alys into the bed, having removed her clothes in a hurry shortly after they entered the room. Her chest came up to his face and he enjoyed himself a bit too long before laying her down._

Jon blinked a few times, trying to cool down. It proved impossible, as new memories kept flowing into his head. _A hand grabbing his head, as he used his tongue to make her scream. A bite on his neck as he entered her. The slapping sound of skin on skin. The heat of her body rising and rising, until he finally spilled his seed inside her._

"Well, someone's awake." She purred, smiling at him. "After last night, I thought you might be tired." Her hand dropped down to grab his hard cock. "I guess I was wrong."

"I couldn't help it." He said, honestly. Jon didn't know where this was going, or what Alys expected to happen, but… _She's so warm._ And his bed hadn't been this warm in a very long time.

"Are you not satisfied, my king?" She asked, still holding onto his member.

He answered with a kiss, putting his hands on her legs. She moved them, climbing on top to straddle him. They moaned together when he slipped inside, the heat spreading all over his body. She pushed on his chest to rise up, giving him a nice view of her full breasts bouncing as she began to work him.

Jon wouldn't forget this dance.

* * *

"You simply must marry her." Sansa's voice startled him.

He had returned to the library, looking for books on Targaryens. He had realized that he knew very little about his own family, but Winterfell's library didn't have many answers. The closest thing he had found was an old tome describing every king who had succeeded Aegon the Conqueror. Jon had been in the middle of reading about his grandfather, _the Mad King_, when he heard Sansa.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know very well what I mean. Everyone in the castle knows. Lady Alys was quite loud."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say.

"It's fine. At least she wasn't as bad as aunt Lysa." She said, shaking a bit. Jon was curious, but not enough to ask. _It probably involves Baelish._ "Anyway, as I've mentioned before, you do need to marry someone." She continued. "And Alys Karstark is a good match."

He sighed. "Sansa, let's calm down here." She was already planning a wedding. _I barely know Alys._ "We haven't even discussed what to do about the fact that I'm a Tar-"

"_Jon!_" She interrupted him, looking around. They were alone in the library, but she walked around and locked the door before returning. "We don't know who might be listening." Her eyes were still glancing at the door.

"Either way, we have to talk about it."

"Well, you've had time to think now." She hesitated. "What do you want to do?"

He took a deep breath. _She won't like it._ "They need to know." He said, simply.

She put a hand on her forehead, rubbing her temples. "Jon…"

"I can't expect people to follow me based on a lie." He hurried to explain. "I understand why father-" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. "Why Lord Stark lied to everyone. I wish he'd told me before I left to join the Night's Watch, but I've made my peace with it." _I swore an oath to renounce a name I didn't even know I had._ Did uncle Benjen know? _It doesn't matter now, I guess._

He continued, "There's no time for lies anymore. We're about to face an enemy that might destroy us all if we're not ready."

"All the more reason we must be careful." She said slowly, with the air of someone trying to explain something very complicated to a child. _She always thinks she's smarter than everyone else._ "If they didn't believe you about the Army of the Dead before, imagine how they'll think after this."

"Keeping secrets from our allies won't help." Jon was adamant. _I won't live in a lie anymore._

"Fine. We'll tell them." She seemed to give up the fight. He was about to thank her for understanding, when she asked, "But can you wait a bit longer?"

Jon hesitated. "How long?"

"We'll need to plan this." She quickly replied. _She must have been expecting this._ "The northern lords don't care much for Targaryens, so we'll have to do something about that. We'll also need southern allies. The key here is Daenerys Targaryen." She gave him a small smile, clearly proud of her own idea. "If we can convince them to work with her, we could solve two problems at once."

He couldn't deny his curiosity about the dragon queen. She was the last living member of that side of his family, so it was only natural. _Daenerys is my aunt,_ he thought, _we should at least be friendly._ But he couldn't shake the feeling that Sansa was manipulating him, offering what she knew he wanted.

"And until then, what?" He asked, getting back on topic. "We'll just keep lying to everybody?"

She stared at him, and he held her gaze until she blinked first. "...Yes." She said, blinking again. "For the sake of our alliance, we'll need to keep the truth hidden." He started shaking his head, and she added, "_Only for now._ We'll tell them when the time is right."

"And what happens if they learn the truth on their own?" He knew she was right. Targaryens won't be welcomed in the North anytime soon. Yet, something felt wrong about this. They couldn't be blamed for lying when the liar took the secret to his grave, but once the truth was known…

"Then we might have a problem." She conceded, biting her lip. "You'll probably lose your crown, and if they suspect I knew too…"

"No." He interrupted her. _I hadn't considered that._ "Whatever happens to me, you must stay in power. The North needs a Stark in Winterfell." She smiled at that. "Maybe they'll make you queen."

Her smile became a grimace. "I wouldn't count on that. Remember what Lady Mormont said before the battle? Most of them don't even consider me a Stark anymore."

"Aren't we a pair?" Jon started, somewhat amused by the irony. "If they had made you queen in the first place, things would've been much simpler. Nobody would think twice about my heritage, and men would be falling over backwards to marry you."

"I've had enough weddings for a lifetime, Jon." She bit her lip, looking worried.

"What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "Littlefinger has a plan. He wants me to marry Robin Arryn, and then help him to…_ kill the boy._" She whispered the last part, clearly still worried someone might be listening.

Jon froze. From what Sansa had told him about Lord Baelish, this didn't surprise him at all. But the way she had phrased it reminded him of a lesson he had learned long ago._ Kill the boy, Jon Snow._ Maester Aemon had said. The old man had taught him much, but he had always seemed sad about his family. _He died thinking his last relative was halfway across the world, but I was right there._

"Jon?" Sansa's voice broke him out of his own mind. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, I was just..." He blinked a few times. "Never mind that. About this plan, what did you say? You told me yourself only a fool would trust Littlefinger."

"I don't trust him." She said, quickly. "But we need the Vale army, and they still answer to him." She sighed, looking away. "I won't let him kill Robin." She added, with determination.

"If what you just told me is true, couldn't we simply warn Lord Arryn? Maybe he'll order Littlefinger's death himself." Jon didn't know the young lord, but such a threat shouldn't be ignored. If not for Sansa's caution, he would have executed Lord Baelish a long time ago. Selling her to the Boltons was just the crime he knew.

She shook her head. "You don't know Robin Arryn. The boy has always worshiped Littlefinger, even before he married aunt Lysa. I doubt anything we say will convince him." She turned back to look at him. "No, we'll have to be clever here. I'm working on a plan of my own."

He waited, but she didn't offer an explanation. "Fine, I trust you. Just let me know if I can help."

Jon made to leave, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait, before you go…" He turned around. "I don't know how you must be feeling, but I've had time to think too and there's something you need to hear." She put her hands on his shoulders, making sure he was paying attention. "It doesn't matter. We were raised in Winterfell together. Father loved you as a son, and I'm sure when Bran and Arya return they'll feel the same way. You're my brother, Jon. Nothing is ever going to change that."

She moved closer, hugging him tight. He felt his eyes burning, so he closed them and leaned into her shoulder. "Thank you… Sister."

* * *

**I wanted to add another character, but apparently Sansa and Jon had much to discuss.  
**

**The date is 18/05/2019**


	14. Savages

**We dive head first into a new POV. I tried skipping this chapter, but it felt wrong. I needed someone with this part of the army.**

* * *

**14\. Savages - Randyll**

Randyll Tarly was a soldier. He had been a soldier his entire life. And Casterly Rock had been a major disappointment. _It was the Imp's fault,_ he knew. Despite their army being strong enough to take whatever forces the Lannisters could muster, the dwarf had made sure the castle would be deserted when they arrived.

_Not completely deserted,_ he reflected bitterly. Cersei Lannister had left a small garrison, only strong enough to keep the siege from being short. It would have worked, were it not for the Imp's secret entrance. Randyll had a few of the Dornish soldiers sent ahead and they quickly opened the castle gates.

After that, it was a bloodbath. He had tried to keep the casualties to a minimum, as befit the usual rules of engagement. Hostages were far more valuable than corpses, and a wealthy family could afford a hefty ransom. But no, the horselords proved to be just as savage as he had imagined. By the time Randyll rode into the castle, there were only corpses.

The savages were busy searching the Lannister bodies for valuables when he heard the news. _Disgusting._

"My lord." A maester came walking his way. Randyll wouldn't bother learning the man's name even if he planned to stay longer. _Grey rats, forsaking their families for a chain._ The world would be well rid of them. "A raven has arrived from King's Landing." The rat said, handing over the scrap of paper.

He read it quickly, cursing loudly at the words.

"Bad news?" The bastard girl asked, walking closer. _What was her name again? ...Obara. Yes, that's it._ For some strange reason, she had been given command of the Dornish army. Randyll cringed at the thought of having to follow a woman into battle, yet their soldiers hadn't questioned her at all.

He briefly considered keeping the information from her, but the word would get out eventually. And he wanted to see her reaction. He waved the paper in front of her eyes. "If this is to be believed, Queen Daenerys has suffered a major defeat at sea. Euron Greyjoy has destroyed the better part of her fleet."

"What?" The girl snatched the paper from his hands. "Does it say anything about Ellaria and my sisters?" She asked, before reading it through herself. _It didn't._ She finished and faced him with a determined look. "It could be a lie. We can't trust Lannisters."

Randyll shook his head. "Did you read that last bit at the end?" She nodded. "They claim that this Greyjoy has stolen a dragon. If that's a lie, it's quite bold." He had dealt with many liars and cheaters in his life, and the best liars knew enough to keep the lie believable.

"Father, what about the plan?" Dickon finally spoke up. For such a tall boy, he seemed to blend into the walls sometimes._ He has much to learn before he can take my place,_ he thought, _but at least he's not as useless as that fat little thief._

He sighed. "No plan survives first contact. Learn that lesson well." Clever men thought everything could be predicted, but war wasn't a game. "The Imp's strategy no longer applies. We'll have to adapt. I need a map."

* * *

He stood staring at the unfurled map for some time, considering his options. The Westerlands were left abandoned, and Casterly Rock itself had no food or resources an army this large needed. The Lannisters had made sure of that. And to make matters worse, he had been told that the golden mines were exhausted. _This was a waste of time,_ he thought bitterly,_ and we can't stay here for long._

His eyes drifted to the Riverlands. They had fertile lands, yet the recent wars had ravaged most of it. Riverrun was a prime example. It had been besieged multiple times. _Still better than staying here._ Randyll knew the obvious choice would be to make for Riverrun. That's what everyone would expect him to do. That was the danger. Ser Jaime Lannister was an experienced warrior, unlike his dwarf brother. He might have left a surprise or two there. _No, we can't go to Riverrun._

He set his sights on King's Landing. A frontal assault would be foolish, especially now that they've lost half their forces._ And yet…_ They would have to attack eventually._ Did the Targaryen girl reach Storm's End?_ He doubted it. If that letter was true, they had lost most of their forces. Storm's End would only be a staging area for their attack, and without a strong army that attack would fail.

_It doesn't matter now._ They could be at Dragonstone, for all he knew. No ravens had arrived from their allies, only from enemies. That didn't fill him with confidence. If the dragons were vulnerable, whatever advantage they had was quickly fading away. He had no intention of fighting for a lost cause.

"My lord?" _That rat again_. Randyll had left clear instructions to not be disturbed, and this vermin still had the nerve to enter the room.

"What could possibly be so important that you'd interrupt me?" He demanded, crossing his arms and fixing him with a glare.

The man looked visibly startled. "Forgive me, my lord, but another letter came." He reached into his sleeve to grab a piece of paper. "This one was directly addressed to you, with instructions to only hand it over when you were alone."

"Fine." Randyll took the paper and stared at the man until he left.

Reading the letter, he understood the secrecy. Ser Jaime Lannister was offering him the post of warden of the south. _In exchange for betraying Lady Olenna._ There were details of troop movements and what they expected him to do.

_Harrenhal?_ He turned to the map and stared at the ancient castle at the northern tip of the God's Eye. He was to march his forces into Harrenhal and wait until Euron Greyjoy arrived with Ser Jaime and the Lannister army. Then he was to send the Dornish to meet them in the field, while keeping the savages inside the castle.

Randyll sighed, passing a gloved hand over his bald head. _These are the moments that defined the course of wars._ He remembered Robert's Rebellion, when he had defeated the young lord who would be king in the battle at Ashford. Robert had escaped while he fought and killed the traitor Lord Cafferen._ I should have chased Robert_. The Baratheon would later go on to humiliate Lord Jon Connington in the Battle of the Bells at Stony Sept. And much later, to kill Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident.

_Could I betray my word?_ He was a Tarly. Randyll had known Lady Olenna since he was a boy, and the woman had always been kind to him. _More than to her own son_, he admitted. Lord Mace Tyrell had never been a capable commander, nor was he especially gifted in any other way. And now that she had lost most of her family, would he dare to abandon the woman?

He shook his head. _Sentimentality has no place in war._ He needed to make a rational choice based on the information he had. He glanced at the map again. Harrenhal was rather close to King's Landing, close enough to serve as a staging area for a later assault. Yet it was also vulnerable.

Suddenly, an idea formed in his mind._ I don't need to choose a side until the last moment._ He went to find the maester.

* * *

**Randyll was an interesting POV to inhabit. It was a bit jarring, though. He's not someone whose thoughts should be shared with anyone.**

**The date is 18/05/2019**


	15. Wounded

**Dany and company regroup after their losses.**

* * *

**15\. Wounded - Tyrion**

Dragonstone was surprisingly empty. Tyrion figured that Stannis would have left some form of garrison to defend it, but no. When their fleet arrived, there were only a few servants and a maester to welcome them. _Or perhaps Stannis did leave a garrison,_ Tyrion considered, _and they left after his death._ What would they fight for, if their king was dead?

None of that mattered, of course. They had more pressing concerns at the moment. He glanced at his queen. Daenerys had raged for hours at their recent naval defeat, before finally settling into a subdued demeanor. He could understand it. _We lost a dragon, but she lost a child._

Tyrion was still trying to come to grips with that fact. Euron could control dragons. He didn't remember much from the battle, having spent the majority of it in the safety of his cabin, but everyone heard that terrible sound. _It had to be a horn, but what sort of horn could have such an effect?_

He didn't know. And among the survivors of that battle, only High Priestess Kinvara had offered an explanation. _The legends say that in Old Valyria the dragonlords could bind dragons to their will in many different ways. Perhaps this Euron Greyjoy has found one of them._ The woman had the unfortunate gift of appearing wise while saying nothing of substance. That Euron had found a way to control dragons was obvious, the important question was how could they stop him.

"Your Grace, the maester informs me that the letter to Winterfell has been sent." Tyrion had wanted to send it when they were at Sunspear, yet the queen had hesitated. _We were too confident in our plan to seek help then, and now we're desperate._

She merely nodded in response, her eyes not leaving the skies where Drogon and Viserion were flying together. Pain was etched on her face. Tyrion wondered if she would ever smile again.

They were in the room with the massive painted table of Westeros. Casting his eyes across the whole continent, Tyrion imagined how useful this must have been for Aegon the Conqueror. More than fifty feet long, with every major castle pictured, from the icy snows in the North to the warm sands of Dorne. There was a raised seat at the precise location of where the island of Dragonstone would be, ideally placed for someone planning an invasion.

He would need to spend some time here thinking of another plan. Their original strategy had been ruined by Euron's surprise attack. _We didn't even bother to stop at Storm's End._ Queen Daenerys had decided to scrap the plan after they took a good look at their remaining forces. Most of the Dornish were either dead or missing, along with Ellaria Sand and her daughter Tyene.

Tyrion glanced at the only remaining Sand in the room, Nymeria. She had spent the better part of the day crying over her losses, and now her eyes had a glazed expression. She didn't even bother to carry her whip anymore. He found little sympathy for the people responsible for Myrcella's death, but to his surprise he did feel something.

Their army was in shambles. Since the last count, only the Unsullied hadn't suffered many losses. Those men knew their limits, and they had tried to avoid engaging Euron's ships. The Dornish had been more reckless and paid the price. And the Reach army had suffered only enough losses to be crippled. Altogether, they barely reached twenty thousand strong.

_That's why we need the King in the North on our side._ He knew they needed this alliance now more than ever.

"Your Grace, in order to expedite matters, perhaps we should send Lady Greyjoy to White Harbor. She can wait for Jon Snow there and escort him back here." Tyrion glanced at the woman, who was taken aback by the suggestion.

"Are you serious?" Yara Greyjoy snapped. "Everyone knows the North hates me and my family." She darted her eyes to Theon briefly, before focusing back on Tyrion. "This is just another bad idea in your long line of terrible plans."

He felt the heat rise to his head. "Need I remind you that it was your carelessness which led to that surprise attack? How could an entire fleet catch us by surprise?"

"We wouldn't even be there if it wasn't for your stupid strategy!" She was yelling now. "We should've just attacked from Dorne, instead of pretending to go somewhere else. What was the point of all that crap?" She slammed her hands on the painted table, leaning over and staring daggers at him.

He was about to reply when he heard the queen's firm voice, "Enough." She turned away from the view of the sky and walked back in. "What's done is done. We must focus on what comes next." She cast her eyes on the painted table, then back at Tyrion. "Do you believe White Harbor would welcome the Greyjoys even after their recent history?"

He hesitated for a bit, before answering, "Perhaps _welcome_ is too strong a word, Your Grace, but I doubt Lord Manderly would resort to open hostilities. Besides, they wouldn't stay for long. Only until Jon Snow arrives."

"Assuming he does." The queen added.

He nodded. "True, yet I believe he will at least send someone in his stead. This alliance would be too useful for him to pass up." He paused to consider the outcomes. "We should also send a raven to White Harbor warning of Lady Greyjoy's arrival. And make sure they sail under a white flag of peace."

Yara Greyjoy bristled at that. "If I leave, Dragonstone would be defenseless from the sea. Did you consider that, _my lord Hand?_" She said the last words with all the contempt she could muster.

A loud cough was heard, and Tyrion turned to face Lord Paxter Redwyne. "I believe we could assist with that." The man was thin and stooped of shoulder, with only a few tufts of orange hair on his balding head. He was garbed in a deep blue vest, covered by a burgundy cape, representing his House colors with pride. Tyrion noticed the small pin with a cluster of grapes on his shoulder. "The Reach army has taken losses, that's true, but our fleet should still be strong enough to put up a fight. And I doubt Lady Greyjoy will be taking all of her ships to White Harbor."

He directed the words at the woman, who shrugged back. "Only a few fast longships to make the trip quicker."

"That's settled, then?" Tyrion asked the queen.

She nodded. "Very well. Make the necessary arrangements."

Tyrion turned to leave, but he saw the maester arriving at the door. "Pardon me, my lord. A raven has arrived from Casterly Rock." He gave the letter and bowed before leaving.

_Casterly Rock?_ Tyrion wondered what happened at his childhood home. He had reservations about leaving Randyll Tarly in charge of the Dothraki, but the man was their best field commander. _He should know how to use a powerful cavalry._ Tyrion unfurled the paper and read quickly.

"Well? What happened?" Queen Daenerys wanted to know.

"Lord Tarly informs that they've taken Casterly Rock without casualties, but the gold mines are dry. And they have been for some time." _Another failure._

Lord Varys raised his eyebrows. "My little birds didn't know about this at all. Lord Tywin knew how to keep a secret." He sounded impressed. _When you deal in secrets, the ability to keep one to yourself is the greatest prize._

The queen sighed. "Is there anything else?" She seemed more tired than disappointed.

"Yes." Tyrion glanced back at the letter. "He says the Lannister soldiers had removed all food and other resources from the castle before they arrived, and they can't stay there for long. So they will march on Harrenhal." _Why, though?_

"Harrenhal?" The queen had the same question he did.

"He doesn't explain much here." Tyrion waved the letter. "But he does mention it's closer to King's Landing." _And a suitable place to house a large army,_ he added in his mind.

"Odd." Lord Redwyne said, looking over the painted table. "The closest castle would be Riverrun." _True, but that's the most obvious route._

"I suppose Lord Tarly has a plan of his own." Tyrion would have to figure out a way to use that. "We'll have to trust him. At least we know where they'll be next, should we need to coordinate an attack later."

"Yes." The queen nodded. "Should we send a raven to Harrenhal as well?"

Tyrion shook his head. "Not yet, Your Grace. We must be sure they hold the castle before that."

"I've heard that place is cursed." Lord Redwyne muttered. "Aunt Olenna claims it's just superstition, but I have my doubts."

"There is some truth to that, my lord." Tyrion tried to remember how many people had died while holding the place._ I sent Janos Slynt to the Wall while he was the lord of Harrenhal, and after that..._ Finally, his memory reached the last known lord. "Every person who holds that castle eventually meets with a terrible fate. Myself, I'm hoping the current lord suffers a great deal before finally dying."

"And just who is the lord of Harrenhal, anyway?" Yara Greyjoy asked, curious.

His face curled in a smile. "Lord Petyr Baelish."

* * *

**Alright, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I just had some trouble at the beginning. **

**Lord Paxter Redwyne is a new addition I felt necessary, as a way to represent the Reach forces (mainly their navy, but he's also a field commander if needed).**

**The date is 19/05/2019 (series finale!)**


	16. Letters

**I think now it's a good time to clarify a few things. I won't retread what the show did, unless I can think of an interesting way to frame it. Or _more_ interesting, to be precise. So I might skip a few scenes. Sam at the Citadel is definitely a skip. Cersei and Jaime are more complex. I'll have to add one of them in the future. Possibly.  
**

**But I won't follow every single character. My original draft was actually just about Jon and Dany (despite the Jonsa earlier on - sorry, they just look too good together), since they're my favorites. My main interest in Tyrion and Sansa was more as an external POV into whatever those two did. **

**However, the story grew beyond that scope. ****The ending is still mostly about the Targaryens. I just really enjoyed writing for Sansa and Tyrion, so they got more stuff to do.**

**Alright, that's enough foreplay. Back to the action.  
**

* * *

**16 - Letters - Sansa**

"Are you sure it's him?" Sansa asked, looking over the letter again. Maester Wolkan had brought them three different scraps of paper, each with a different message. She was holding the one from Tyrion Lannister, claiming to speak for Daenerys Targaryen and offering an alliance against Cersei.

They were in the solar, after she had made sure to lock the doors and check for any sign that someone might be listening. She was fairly certain they were safe, though all this secrecy was starting to weigh on her. Maybe Jon was right. _Perhaps we should reveal everything before something happens._

"Aye." Jon replied. "Tyrion has a way with words." Was all he said, leaving her to wonder which words gave the man away. _Doesn't matter._

"Fine, it's him." She waved the letter. "If we're to believe this, Daenerys Targaryen has landed on Dragonstone." She then picked up one of the other scraps. "And this man," She checked the name again. "Samwell Tarly. He says there's a massive deposit of dragonglass in that island." Sansa didn't believe in coincidences. "You know him too?"

Jon smiled. "There's no man I trust more than Sam. He wouldn't lie about something this important." He walked closer and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sansa, this is the opportunity we've been waiting for."

She nodded. "Dragonstone. We should send someone there." She was considering the possibilities. _Brienne? No, I might need her here. Who else?_ "Ser Davos has spent a long time there. Perhaps he'd be willing to go."

Jon frowned and stepped back, looking down. _There's that feeling again._ _He's about to say something stupid._ "I think I should go." He said, avoiding her eyes.

Sansa fought the urge to laugh. "Jon, you're the king. You can't leave your people." She hated when she needed to state the obvious._ He should know this._

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Ser Davos might be good with words, but he never saw them. Never fought them. If anyone can convince Daenerys to help, it will be me." _Daenerys? How familiar._

She sighed. "I know you want to meet your aunt, but please think about this. If you reveal your parentage, she might consider you a threat. And even if you don't, you're still in open rebellion as the King in the North." She said, slowly. She loved her brother, but her patience was wearing thin. _Why do I have to keep reminding him of things he should already know?_

He shook his head. "Sansa, if we want this alliance to work we'll need to trust her. If I go there myself, it sends a better message."

"She could kill you." She said, quietly. The rumors surrounding the dragon queen weren't very encouraging. Apparently, she had her own brother killed. _What would she do with her nephew?_

"I don't think Tyrion would agree to that. If he's her Hand, he should have some influence over her decisions." She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept talking, "At most, they'll keep me as a hostage to force your hand. But even that could prove useful. The longer they keep me there, the more time I'll have to convince them." He set his jaw and she could tell he wouldn't change his mind.

"Fine, you'll go." She gave up. _There's no reasoning with him when he gets like this._ "Just be careful. Don't reveal anything before you're sure you can trust her." He nodded, and she turned her attention to the final letter. "We should talk to Lord Reed."

The letter was from Castle Black. Eddison Tollett had thanked Jon for the new arrivals and informed them about the repairs. He had also mentioned other visitors.

"I'll go talk to him. He'll be glad to know his daughter is safe." Jon said, moving towards the door.

"With Bran." She still remembered how happy they were when they had read the letter for the first time. _Bran is coming home!_ The last time she saw her little brother he had been lying in bed, unconscious._ A lifetime ago._

Jon turned around to look at her. "I hope he gets here before I leave. We can't afford to waste time." His expression was determined, but she knew him well enough to see beyond that.

"You could wait, you know." She offered, hoping to get more time to convince him to drop this foolish idea. "From what the letter said, they would be leaving Castle Black soon after Lady Reed regained her strength. It shouldn't take long."

"I'll think about it." He replied, before opening the door to leave. _That's better than nothing, I suppose._

* * *

Sansa was watching Jon spar with Brienne. They were both excellent fighters. While Brienne was strong, Jon was quick enough to dodge her powerful swings and counter with his own. Most of their previous encounters had ended in a draw, but this time Jon was trying to wield two blades at once. _Why would he do that?_ She wondered, after seeing him fall for the third time.

"Do you have a moment, my lady?" Littlefinger's quiet voice made her turn away from the training yard.

She held the urge to sigh. "Lord Baelish. What is it?"

"Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier?" He asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Yes." She hesitated, trying to figure out how to keep him satisfied without fully committing to anything. "I suppose it's a good plan."

He smiled. "Good. I've already started laying a few seeds I hope will grow soon." She frowned slightly, and he added, "Don't worry. You won't have to do anything yet. Just be ready when the time comes." And with that, he left.

She briefly wondered what those seeds were, as she watched him walk away to meet Lord Glover and a few others near the South Gate. It would be difficult to counter his moves if she didn't know them._ I need spies,_ she decided. In King's Landing, every servant had been spying for someone. Lord Varys seemed to have more than everyone else, but Cersei and Littlefinger also had several people in their employ.

_But the North isn't the South,_ a small inner voice warned her. Northerners were prouder and less likely to accept this kind of service. The easiest solution would be to find his spies and convince them to work for her.

"Finally!" She heard Jon's voice and turned to see what happened.

Brienne was down, her sword a few feet away and a surprised expression on her face. Sansa walked to meet them, as Jon helped Brienne to her feet.

"Thank you, Your Grace." The tall woman said, picking up her sword. "I didn't expect that last move. Where did you learn that?"

"Beyond the Wall." Jon smiled. "I'm not that used to fighting with two blades, but I've seen some freefolk do it." He twirled the blunt swords. "I thought it'd be easier. It was a challenge just to keep up with you. I guess I'll need more practice."

"Anytime, Your Grace." Brienne bowed. "My lady." Sansa nodded, and the woman left them to meet Podrick.

"Why were you using two swords in the first place?" She asked her brother.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I figured it might be useful. I do have two swords now." _Dark Sister._ _Does he truly mean to use it?_

"Jon, you can't use that sword." She kept her voice low, trying not to attract attention. "What if someone asks you how you got it? You're not a good liar, so don't even try it."

"I know, I know…" He replied, looking tired. "But someday I won't have to live in a lie anymore, and when that day comes I should be ready." He sounded bitter.

"Have you spoken to Lord Reed?" She decided to change the subject.

Jon moved to pick up his cloak and _Longclaw_, putting the blunt swords away. "He seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it. That man is wiser than he lets on."

"What do you mean?" She did get that feeling when they first met. Lord Howland Reed had intense eyes.

"He already knew his son was dead." Jon replied, sadly. "He said Jojen had green dreams." She frowned, and he explained, "Visions of future events. That's why he didn't follow Robb south, and why he sent Jojen and Meera to help Bran."

_He could have warned us._ "_Visions…_ Did he mention anything else?"

"Well, he's agreed to help me with something." She arched her eyebrows. He sighed and continued, "Apparently I can warg into Ghost, but I can't control it. He's going to train me."

"_Warg?_ What's that?" She had never heard the word before.

"It's a bit complicated. Basically, it means I can send my mind into Ghost's body and experience the world through him. It usually happens at night, when I'm sleeping. I thought it was a normal dream, until I met a warg beyond the Wall." His expression hardened. "He used to warg into an eagle to scout ahead. After I'd killed him, the eagle attacked and gave me these scars." He pointed to his face.

_White walkers, dragons, green dreams, wargs… When had life become a song?_ "And Lady Alys? Have you seen her?" She turned the conversation back towards something she could understand.

"Aye. She seemed… _eager_ to continue our relationship." He was avoiding her eyes.

_Of course. The woman could be queen_. And, if her screams were any indication, she would be rather happy in other ways too. Unbidden images floated in her mind, and she shook her head to push them away, blushing slightly.

"How about you? Do you want to continue?" She should have asked that sooner. Alys Karstark was a good match, but he shouldn't be forced to marry someone. _Nobody should be forced to marry anyone against their will._

He paused for a moment, raising a hand to his chin. "I don't know, I barely know the woman." He said, scratching his beard. "It's just nice to have some company, I guess." He sighed. "I've grown used to waking up alone, but ever since my…" _His death._ She knew he didn't like to talk about it. "Ever since then, I've been having trouble sleeping." She couldn't even imagine what dying must feel like, but her own nights had been troublesome of late. _Some scars don't heal._

"I see." She tried to understand. "So... she helps you sleep?" Something about that felt wrong. "Jon, you shouldn't use her. Lady Alys is probably hoping you'll marry her someday. Promise me you'll make things clear before you continue to… _sleep_ with her."

He nodded. "You're right. I promise."

* * *

**The wheels are in motion. Next chapter should be pivotal.  
**

**The date is 19/05/2019 (finale, baby!)**


	17. The Last King in the North

**Well, I think you can guess what happens. Great title, huh? I couldn't resist.  
**

* * *

**17\. The Last King in the North - Jon**

The Great Hall of Winterfell was packed with people. _Again._ Ever since becoming king, Jon could barely remember a time when the place wasn't crowded. Looking over the room, he spotted Alys Karstark sulking at the far end of the long table to the left. She was trying very hard to avoid his eyes.

After he took Sansa's advice, his bed had grown colder. Lady Alys became less inclined to continue sleeping with him without the prospect of a wedding. _She wanted the crown._ Jon felt more guilty than anything else. He's the one who had brought her into his bed in the first place.

At least he had found something else to distract him. He glanced over at Howland Reed, who nodded back. The man was a fountain of knowledge. His wisdom had already proven to be effective, because at the end of their last lesson Jon had finally managed to warg into Ghost. Feeling the world through his direwolf was a... _strange experience,_ to say the least. Night had been as clear as day, he could hear the quickened heartbeat of a scared rabbit running away, and smell the scent of plants he couldn't even name. _I can't wait to try that again._

And Jon also used their time together to ask about Lyanna Stark. _My mother._ Lord Reed only had good things to say about her, giving examples of her bravery and her compassion. _She was a mystery knight!_ That was his favorite story, and he had wondered why Lord Stark never spoke of it. _Never mind that now, let's get on with this._

He turned to look at Sansa, who nodded. He rose from his seat.

"My lords and ladies. We have called you here today to discuss a few important matters." He glanced around to make sure he had their attention. "First, I'd like to thank all of you for sending people to the Wall. Lord Commander Tollett informs me the repairs are going well, and within a few months we should have more castles ready to defend us." Some lords didn't look too pleased, but most of them raised their cups.

Jon raised his own mug and took a sip of ale. "And in the interest of our defense, another letter arrived. A brother of the Night's Watch has found evidence of a massive deposit of dragonglass in the island of Dragonstone." He paused here to see if they remembered what he had said before.

Lord Royce spoke up. "Your Grace, isn't that the very weapon you said could destroy the White Walkers?"

He allowed himself a smile. _At least one of them remembers._ "Aye. We'll need to mine it and turn it into weapons first, but yes it is. I'm glad I don't have to explain the importance of going to Dragonstone." He hesitated. This next part was critical. _I'll have to be careful._ Jon took a deep breath. "And the final letter to arrive just happened to be from that island. Daenerys Targaryen has arrived."

The Great Hall erupted at these words. It seemed every lord and lady wanted to talk at the same time, discussing what to do about the dragon queen. Jon waited and watched them first, glancing at each notable lord to try and gauge their response. It didn't surprise him that Lord Baelish seemed unperturbed by the news. _He probably knew about it before we did._ However, Jon was surprised to notice that a few other lords seemed to know it too. _Odd._

Finally, he raised his hands and the noise quieted down. "The letter was written by Tyrion Lannister, who claims to be the queen's Hand. He offers an alliance against Cersei."

Lady Mormont spoke up. "We can't trust Lannisters, Your Grace. Even against other Lannisters."

"Lord Tyrion is different." Sansa offered. "He was never fully accepted into his own family. If he's truly with the dragon queen, perhaps we should consider this alliance."

Lord Royce stood up. "The Lannisters are terrible, to be sure, but they're nothing compared to the Targaryens." His voice was bitter. "I still remember the atrocities committed by the Mad King."

Jon was afraid of this. Madness was indeed a Targaryen trait. He had read that when a Targaryen was born, the gods flipped a coin to decide if they would achieve greatness or madness. His recent trips to the library had given him a greater understanding of that side of his family, and it seemed the coin had fallen on the mad side far more often. _Will I go mad too?_ He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

"That's all in the past." He had to make this work. "I don't know this dragon queen, but I won't judge her based on her father's crimes." He paused to see their reaction. Most of the lords were nodding, so he continued, "And we'll need allies for the war to come. Daenerys has the armies and the dragons we need. It's important that she doesn't waste them fighting a pointless war in the south."

Lord Baelish cleared his throat. "An alliance would be wise, Your Grace." He said, with that slimy smile of his. "If I may ask, what else did Lord Tyrion say?"

Jon hesitated, looking at Sansa first. She was frowning, clearly suspicious of Littlefinger, but she remained quiet. _That's not very helpful._ "He invites me to Dragonstone to treat with his queen." He decided to tell the truth. He took a deep breath. "And I'm going to accept."

He heard Sansa sigh by his side, but he ignored her. She had been trying to change his mind for days now. _At least wait for Bran,_ he had heard more than once. Jon was almost convinced. He wanted to see his little brother again. _What did he see beyond the Wall?_

He paid more attention to the other lords. To their credit, the reaction wasn't as negative as he had expected. _It's a good thing I mentioned the dragonglass first._ But those same lords who weren't surprised by the news that Daenerys had landed looked angrier than the rest._ Why?_

"You're leaving?" Lady Lyanna Mormont asked, her voice a bit less fierce than usual.

He turned to face her. Jon knew he wouldn't be able to convince everyone, and he expected the angry faces. But he didn't expect this. _She's sad_. Even Sansa hadn't reacted this way when he told her, as she seemed more worried about telling him what to do instead.

"I have to." He tried to sound confident. "We'll need to convince her to fight an enemy that most people don't even believe. I've seen them. I've fought them. I know I can convince her." The Great Hall quieted down after his words._ Well, that was easier than I thought._

"Are you sure that's the only reason you're going?" Lord Glover's loud voice broke through the silence._ Strange question._ Glover was one of those lords he had noticed before.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, feeling Sansa shift in her seat. He turned to look at her. She had her eyes wide open, clearly worried about what was happening. When she caught his eye, she mouthed the words _HE KNOWS._

Jon didn't have time to think. "_Enough lies!_" Lord Manderly sounded just as angry as Lord Glover. "We know about your secret. You just want to reunite with your family." _That confirms it._ And he was another one of those lords who weren't surprised before. _How did they find out?_

Lord Royce looked confused. "_Family?_ I don't understand."

He opened his mouth to explain himself, but Lord Glover beat him to it. "Jon Snow isn't Ned Stark's son."

Silence greeted those words. Most lords just stood there with their mouths hanging open, clearly too dumbstruck to say anything.

Jon had to say something. "_Alright!_" He raised his hands above his head. "I don't know how you've learned this, but it doesn't matter." He took a deep breath. "It's true. Lord Stark wasn't my father."

"That doesn't make sense." Lady Mormont regained her voice faster than the others.

"Indeed it doesn't." Lord Cerwyn agreed. "We all know how Lady Catelyn hated the Bastard of Winterfell. Why would Ned lie about something so important?" He asked, looking straight at Jon.

"He had to protect his family." Lord Reed's voice was low, but caught everyone's attention. He rose from his seat and hobbled to the front, slowly leaning on his cane. When he reached the main table, he nodded at Jon before turning back to face the other lords. "Ned was my dearest friend. The entire North knows how honorable he was, but few knew that honor had a limit." Lord Reed sighed. "At the end of the war, he was faced with a difficult choice. He chose family."

"Wait a moment, my lord." Lord Royce still looked confused. "If Jon Snow isn't Ned Stark's son, how is he family?"

"Lord Stark was my uncle." Jon said. He knew it would sound better coming from him. "I'm the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."

The whole room gasped together. _Except Glover and Manderly,_ he noted. They looked rather pleased with themselves.

"See?" Lord Glover gloated. "Our so-called_ King in the North_ has been a Targaryen this whole time. I bet he can't wait to surrender the North to his aunt." His voice was full of scorn. Jon narrowed his eyes and balled his hand into a fist. _Sansa was right, I should've punished him._

"How…" Lady Mormont seemed about to defend him, but she shook her head. "How long have you known?" She asked, turning her head from Lord Glover towards him.

Jon considered looking at Sansa, then changed his mind._ I can't let them blame her too._ "Lord Howland Reed told me as soon as he'd arrived at Winterfell." He glanced at the man, still standing in front of the main table, his piercing green eyes watchful as always. "I was… _surprised,_ to say the least."

"But that was ages ago!" Lord Royce didn't sound too pleased. "Why haven't you said anything?"

He opened his mouth, but Lord Manderly interrupted him. "_Isn't it obvious?_ He knew the North would never accept a Targaryen as king."

"That's true!" Lord Cerwyn agreed. "A Targaryen shouldn't be leading us."

"Maybe he even made up this _Night King_ business." He couldn't make out who said that.

"Yeah, everything he said could be a lie." Or that.

"We can't trust a Targaryen."

"He might be mad too."

"_ENOUGH!_" Sansa shouted, slamming her hands on the table and slowly rising from her seat. "Jon may not be my father's son, but he's still family. His mother was a Stark. He was raised at Winterfell. While you're our guests here, you will treat him with respect." Her nostrils were flaring, and she narrowed her eyes in a predatory way.

Jon felt the hint of a smile on his face. _My sister_. Hearing all those people insulting him made him realize that none of them actually cared for him at all. _They wanted a Stark, but they settled for me._

Lord Royce inclined his head. "My lady, with all due respect, you can't expect us to follow your… cousin now." He avoided Jon's eyes.

"Well, his mother was a Stark." Lady Mormont offered. _Lyanna. Her namesake._ The young lady of Bear Island must have heard a lot about Lyanna Stark. "And he has proven himself in battle." She seemed to be the only one who still supported him. _At least one._ Most of the other lords were shaking their heads.

"No. A Targaryen can't be King in the North." Lord Cerwyn crossed his arms. "We can't have that."

"But these are dark times." Ser Davos said, grimly. Jon was surprised to hear the man's voice. _He's a southerner._ Most northern lords disliked him for having such an influence over their king. _Former king, it seems._ "You'll need a strong leader for the wars to come."

"If I may?" Littlefinger's voice rose from the side of the room._ Finally._ Jon was wondering why the man had been so quiet during all the commotion. He walked briskly to the center of the room to stand closer to the main table. Lord Reed eyed him with suspicion, casually dropping his free hand to the bronze knife at his side.

Lord Baelish cleared his throat and addressed the room. "You have a strong leader right there." He pointed at Sansa. "A true Stark. One who has survived horrors most people can't imagine. The true hero of the battle for Winterfell. Your… _Queen in the North._"

* * *

**I'll be honest: I forgot Davos was supposed to be in the room until the end. Though I don't think his words would have had much weight anyway. But it's interesting that I forgot the two advisors when their rulers needed them most. That probably says something about me.  
**

**Alright, there should be another chapter before Jon leaves. But this is definitely the last Jon chapter at Winterfell. For now.**

**Conversely, this was the reason I nixed the Jonsa stuff. I wanted Jon to leave sooner rather than later, but having to set that up took entirely too long. I still think they look good together. It just didn't feel organic.  
**

**Also, I'm not sure I see Sansa with anyone else. Maybe Tyrion? I don't know. Definitely not Sandor, though. It's certainly possible I'll just leave her without pairing. But I do want her to be happy. I guess I could figure out a way to make her happy without a man. I know, I know - what a shocking concept!**

**The date is 19/05/2019 (finale, yay!)**


	18. The Three Queens

**Sansa bids Jon farewell.**

* * *

**18.**** The Three Queens - Sansa**

_Queen in the North._ Sansa still couldn't believe it. None of the lords and ladies had risen from their chairs and chanted like they did for Jon, but they had all agreed with Lord Baelish after he suggested it. _Littlefinger._ She knew he had his fingers on this, she was no fool. And yet… _I could be a good queen._

The time she spent in King's Landing had taught her much. Cersei Lannister was a terrible queen, more worried about herself than the people she ruled. She could still remember the woman's drunken rambles when Stannis Baratheon was attacking the capital.

And Margaery Tyrell had been the complete opposite. She used to walk among the people and give food to the hungry. She sang to the children and they laughed with her. _They loved their queen._ Sansa sometimes wondered if it had all been an act. If the woman was just too smart and that had been the best way she found to play the Game._ It didn't matter._ Whether true or false, her actions had brought happiness to the people when they needed it most.

_And now the North needs me too._

"Your Grace?" Jon's voice caught her by surprise. She had been watching the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. There were several horses being saddled for the long journey to White Harbor. Lord Manderly had insisted on accompanying Jon to his lands, so most of the soldiers he had brought were going back home with him. Her eyes had wandered towards the South Gate and what lay beyond.

"Jon…" She began, a little annoyed at his formal tone. "Don't call me that." She turned to face him. He was already wearing the white cloak she had recently sewn him, looking like a skinnier version of Ghost. "We're family. Never forget that. You'll call me sister." She smirked and rose her eyebrows. "Unless you want me to call you _Aegon?_"

He gave her a rare smile. "No, I've gotten used to Jon." He frowned and scratched his beard. "Though, I'm not sure what my aunt would prefer." He said, thoughtfully.

She considered. "I don't know how fast news travels south. However, based on what happened here, I believe you should be honest. Then let her decide." Sansa hoped the rumors she had heard about the dragon queen were exaggerated._ I can't afford to lose him too._ "Do you have the letter?"

He patted his right hand against his heart. "_Yes, sister._" He said, patiently. She had written a letter granting him permission to act as her representative in any negotiations with Daenerys Targaryen. _It's merely a formality, of course._ Everyone knew they were related, even if he was no longer the son of Eddard Stark.

"Just remember: we can't afford to send any soldiers south. And we need her dragonglass. Anything else you're free to decide." She trusted him enough for that.

He nodded. "And I need to convince her that bedtime stories are real." He sighed, putting a hand on his forehead. "Wait!" He slapped his own head. "_I forgot!_"

"What?" She asked, confused.

He turned on her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Remember when we were talking about my orders to man the castles of the Night's Watch?" She nodded, vaguely recalling the conversation. He continued, "Well, I was supposed to ask Tormund to capture a wight so I could show everyone the threat." _Now I remember._ So many things had happened after that, she wasn't surprised he forgot.

"Don't worry about that, Jon." She waved his hands away. "I'll make the arrangements." _It was a good idea._ They wouldn't be able to convince everyone with words alone. _I only believed it because I trust him._

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't believe I forgot about something so important."

She put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "It's understandable. Lord Reed arrived shortly after that conversation, if I recall. Let's just say you had…_ other_ _things_ to worry about."

"That's true." He nodded and caught sight of Lady Lyanna Mormont walking by. "In fact, now that you've mentioned that, excuse me for a moment." And he walked quickly to meet the young lady. Sansa followed discreetly, just to stay within earshot.

"Lady Lyanna!" He called her. "Do you mind a word?" The girl smiled and nodded, walking towards him.

"Your G-" She stopped herself, frowning. "Uh, what should I call you now?"

He smiled back. "Jon is fine." He unbuckled his sword belt and unfastened _Longclaw_ from it. "This sword was given to me by Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Your uncle. He said I had earned it, but it never felt right to keep another family's ancestral blade to myself." He breathed deeply. "I was going to wait until the war was over, though now that I have _Dark Sister._" He nodded at the smaller blade still in the sword belt. "I won't be defenseless." He presented the bastard sword with both hands. "Here. _Longclaw_ belongs to your family."

Lady Mormont's eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. It took a few moments for her to regain her composure. "This is…" She reached for it, and put a hand over the scabbard. "Thank you, Jon. But I can't accept it right now." She said, pushing the sword back towards him. "I've always been more of a bow girl myself, and my cousins preferred axes. I fear that sword wouldn't see much use in our hands."

Jon looked confused. "So… You're not taking it?"

"_Not yet._" The girl quickly replied, shaking her head. "I can't say no to such a valuable gift. I just think you'll make better use of it during the war." Then she narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger towards him. "However, I do expect you to return it to me in due time. Until then, make sure you don't lose it."

He nodded in understanding. "Aye. I'll keep it then." Jon reached for the sword belt and began tying the sword back. "I promise I'll return your sword after the Night King dies, my lady."

"Lyanna is fine." She waved a hand. "As I've said before, I'm not a lady."

"_Lyanna…_" Jon's voice grew quiet.

"Do you know much about her?" Lady Mormont asked, tentatively. "My own mother thought very highly of the She-Wolf of Winterfell." _Well, that's obvious,_ Sansa thought, considering her name. She knew some lords were known to curry favor by naming their children after their liege lord or their family, but the Mormonts were different.

He shook his head. "Lord Reed has been telling me a few stories, but my fath-" He coughed. "Lord Stark never talked about her." He paused for a moment, scratching his beard. "I suppose it was too painful for him."

"It would be." Lord Howland Reed said, walking slowly towards the two. "Ned loved his sister very much."

Sansa took his appearance as an excuse to finally join the conversation. "Lord Reed." She called, moving closer. "I'm glad you'll be staying at Winterfell. I was afraid you'd go with Jon."

Jon waved a hand. "Ser Davos will be joining me." Then he turned to Lord Reed. "But I would've enjoyed your company, my lord. You've taught me much in our short time together." He glanced at Ghost, sitting silently near the South Gate. The wolf's ears perked up, noticing them, his red eyes staring. Jon made a gesture and Ghost moved to join them.

"Are you taking him south too?" Sansa asked, hoping the answer was no. She had grown used to his company, as a reminder of her own direwolf. Ghost's fur wasn't as smooth as her Lady's had been, but she loved to brush him. When he let her. _He's a wild one._

"That's up to him." Jon looked from her to Ghost, bending over to face him. "Well, boy? Do you want to go with me, or will stay here with her?"

The direwolf licked his nose, then moved to stand beside her. Smiling, she put a hand over his head, feeling the warmth of his messy fur. _Thank you for not leaving me alone._

"_Traitor._" Jon said, but his face broke into a grin. "I suppose that settles that." He turned to Lord Howland. "Are you sure you're not coming?"

The man smiled. "I must admit I was tempted. The opportunity to see a dragon up close comes but once in a lifetime." Then he closed his eyes. "Yet I must wait for my daughter. She should arrive imminently."

Sansa turned to Jon. "Couldn't you wait a bit longer?" She pleaded. "We haven't seen Bran in ages!" _And Arya… Would they ever be all in the same place again?_

"Sorry." Jon shook his head and raised his hands in a defensive stance. "After what happened, I need some time away." He gave a weak smile. "Don't worry, though. I'll come back. I promise."

"He has to." Lady Mormont offered. "He has my family's sword." Someone called her, and the young lady turned back. "Excuse me, my lords. My queen." And she left.

Sansa waited until she was out of earshot, then she touched Jon's arm. "She likes you."

He nodded. "Yeah, I like her too." _Ugh, he can be so dense sometimes._

She shook her head. "No, Jon." Sansa stared at him to make sure he understood her next words. "_She likes you._"

His eyes widened. "Oh." He stood there with his mouth hanging open for a while, before Lord Reed coughed.

"Well, I think I should also move on." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Safe travels, lad. Never forget who you are." With that, he left. Sansa watched as the man hobbled away. _He's probably going to the godswood again._

"That's why she let me keep the sword..." Jon mumbled. He seemed to be thinking out loud.

She laughed. "It's a harmless crush. Don't worry too much about it. At her age, I used to think I loved Joffrey." Sansa felt more than a little ashamed of her younger self.

He relaxed a bit. "Gods, that's true. You were horrible back then. Arya and I would often..." He hesitated when he looked at her face. "Uh, never mind that."

"_The point is_ that I'm not that person anymore." She defended herself. _What was he about to say?_ "I'm sure Lady Mormont will find someone closer to her own age eventually."

"Your Grace!" Ser Davos Seaworth came walking from the South Gate. Sansa noticed he was referring to Jon, and not herself. _It will take time,_ she knew.

"Sansa's the queen now, Davos." Jon said, waving a hand at her direction. "I'm just a…" He frowned. "Well, I don't know what I am now."

"You're a prince, Jon. _The Prince of Winterfell._" Sansa supplied. "And until we hear from Bran and Arya, you're my heir."

Jon barked a laugh. "Good luck convincing everyone else."

Ser Davos looked from one to the other before saying, "Forgive me, my queen, but we're ready to leave now." His eyes drifted towards the Gate. "Lord Manderly seemed rather impatient."

"Let him wait." She would always remember the lords who had turned against Jon. _They will find me a less forgiving ruler._ "Jon, come here." She opened her arms wide and he joined her in a hug. She held on tight, remembering that time they had reunited at Castle Black._ I was alone for so long, then I found him._ Her eyes started to sting and she closed them, leaning into the white fur on his shoulder. "I'll miss you, brother."

* * *

**And we're off! Jon finally leaves Winterfell. I have to admit this took way longer than I had originally planned, but the story simply flowed that way. You can't just skip these things. ****Next up: White Harbor. **

**Fair warning: I have about 6 extra chapters already written, but I'll take a break this week. The end of Game of Thrones is a huge event, one that requires time to process. Let's hope we can get some sweet in this bitterness.**

**The date is 19/05/2019 (finale, ahoy!)**


	19. White Harbor

**Well, the watch is ended. Now we wait for GRRM's version. However long that will take.**

**It's funny, though. I've always thought Jon was my favorite character, followed by Arya and Dany. But watching that finale made me realize that Daenerys was my actual favorite all along. I really wanted her to win, even after all the burning. It broke my heart to see how her story ended.****  
**

**What a tragic end for House Targaryen.**

**Anyway, let's move on. Watching that ending only made me more motivated to finish this.**

* * *

**19\. White Harbor - Jon**

"Have you ever been to White Harbor?" Jon asked Ser Davos Seaworth. They had just made it across the White Knife, so the city couldn't be very far. Jon had never been south of Winterfell before, but he had studied the maps.

The old knight barked a laugh. "No self-respecting smuggler worth his salt could do his job without coming to White Harbor." His loud voice attracted some attention from the soldiers surrounding them. He noticed their reaction and led his horse closer, lowering his tone. "If Winterfell is the heart of the North, White Harbor is its mouth. It's the richest northern city for a reason, Jon." He glanced ahead to make sure Lord Manderly wasn't paying attention and continued, "Everyone who wants to trade with the North must come through White Harbor. Especially if they hope to avoid the Ironborn." He added in a whisper.

Jon knew a little bit of history about the place. Maester Luwin had taught him that the Manderlys had been exiled from the Reach, long before Aegon the Conqueror landed on Westeros. Back then, the Seven Kingdoms were truly led by seven independent rulers. The King in the North of the time had welcomed the Manderlys and awarded them the Wolf's Den, accepting their oaths of fealty and charging them with defending the White Knife river and the rich lands surrounding it.

"I've never been south of Winterfell." He considered it for a while and corrected himself, "Well, at least not since I can remember." Davos looked a bit confused. "Apparently, I was born in Dorne." He added, in a low voice.

The man nodded. "Still bitter about that, eh?"

Jon shook his head. "No, it actually explains a lot. Lord Stark was overprotective for a reason." He voiced his thoughts. "Most families send their children away to be fostered, in order to develop bonds of friendship at an early age and encourage the kids to learn more about the world. He himself had been fostered at the Eyrie with Robert Baratheon and the two became best friends. But none of his children ever left Winterfell."

"And you think that was because of you?" Davos asked, frowning.

"Why else would he have kept all his sons and daughters so close?" Jon had been thinking about this for some time now. With so many heirs, Lord Stark could have made many allies just by having them be fostered somewhere. _If Robb or Sansa had been fostered at Highgarden, and Bran or Arya at Sunspear…_ Most of these past wars would have been different, he was sure of that.

Davos sighed. "Jon, until you have your own children you'd never understand what drives a parent to keep them close." His voice seemed a bit pained, as if recalling a bad memory. "Blaming yourself for that isn't going to change anything."

He wanted to argue, but one look at the man's face made him rethink it. He must have lost a child. Jon had never given much thought to fatherhood. Being a bastard, his surname wasn't something he was willing to pass on to others. _But you're not a bastard,_ a small voice told him.

After a few more hours on the road, the city came into view. At this distance, Jon couldn't make out much except for the sheer size of it. _This is a true city,_ was his first thought. He had only ever visited Winter Town and a few hamlets beyond the Wall, but the difference was obvious. He was about to say something to Ser Davos, when a figure on horseback came galloping at them, towards Lord Wyman Manderly.

His soldiers gathered in front of the corpulent lord of White Harbor to protect him, but the man stopped short. Leaping from the saddle, he bowed low and greeted Lord Manderly. "M'lord, there's been news from the docks." He stopped to catch his breath.

Lord Wyman waved his soldiers away and approached the man. "Well, don't keep us waiting, good man. What's the problem?"

The man was still breathing hard. "_Ironborn!_" He said, rather loudly. Pointing at some place beyond the city, he continued, "A while back, we spotted five ships on the horizon, sailing fast to the harbor. They were flying white flags, but the captain gathered our forces just in case." He took a deep breath. "When they reached the docks, we saw Yara Greyjoy and her brother Theon-"

"The Greyjoys are here?" Jon interrupted, moving to get a better look. Just hearing the name brought back bad memories.

Lord Manderly coughed and faced Jon. "Why don't we let him finish first, then you can waste our time asking pointless questions."

"But, m'lord, they came for the King in the North." The man's eyes darted from one to the other, clearly not understanding why his lord was being so hostile towards his king. _I guess the news hasn't spread yet,_ Jon thought bitterly. "Turns out, they had sent a raven before they came. Lord Wylis gave me this." And he presented the letter.

Lord Manderly took it and read quickly. "It seems my son still has much to learn. He should've warned everyone at the harbor the minute he received this." The portly lord scratched his beard. "Apparently, the dragon queen was desperate enough to send her allies as escort." He raised his eyes to Jon. "They're supposed to take you to Dragonstone."

Jon wanted to read the letter, but Lord Wyman made no mention to give it to him. He shrugged. "Then we won't have to spend much time looking for a ship." He turned back to the messenger. "Is there anything else?"

"Aye, Your Grace." The man replied. Lord Manderly scoffed, but made no mention to interrupt him. "We got news from traders. Some say there was a big sea battle down south, with the dragon queen and Euron Greyjoy. And the Targaryen lost."

"What?" Jon couldn't believe it. Considering all that he had heard, the woman seemed invincible. _Who could stand against dragons?_

"Aye, and some even said the Greyjoy stole a dragon from her." The man added, in a quiet voice.

"That makes little sense." Lord Wyman voiced everyone's thoughts.

The man raised his hands in a defensive way. "Just repeating what I heard, m'lord."

Jon considered it for a moment. "It could be a lie. From what Sansa tells me, Cersei isn't beyond lying to gain the upper hand."

"Might be." Ser Davos offered. "But it's such a ridiculous lie. In my experience, the wilder the rumor the bigger the chances it's the truth."

"I suppose we'll find out when we reach the harbor. Let's go." Lord Manderly gave some orders and everyone was back on the road to White Harbor.

At the outskirts, Jon admired the brightly white houses blending seamlessly with the snow which covered the ground. The steep roofs were of a dark grey color, making the entire city a sort of banner for the Starks. _White and grey._ And the people seemed enthusiastic too, cheering for their lord as they rode along.

After they entered the city walls, Lord Manderly gave an excuse and hurried along to the New Castle, taking his soldiers with him. Jon didn't really know where to go, but Ser Davos led him along the path towards the harbor. It was so massive that they had divided it in two, with the outer harbor being the larger one. The inner harbor provided better anchorage. That was their destination.

Passing through the Seal Gate into the harbor, Jon saw the ancient fortress of the Wolf's Den in the distance. He remembered it from his lessons because he shared a name with the King in the North who had raised it. _Or the name I had prayed for, so many times in front of the Heart Tree: Jon Stark._ The old castle used to be the seat of House Manderly before the construction of the New Castle, but now it was just a prison.

Moving on, they walked along until he spotted a woman standing next to the largest longship docked at the harbor. _Yara Greyjoy._ She was the only woman among several men, but when she spoke they hurried to follow her orders. Jon glanced at Ser Davos, who gave him a firm nod. Together, they dismounted and walked towards her.

"Nah, that price is no good." Her voice was loud enough to be heard from a good distance. She shook her head and pointed at some place behind them. "Come back when that prick gives you a fair share." The man she was talking to seemed rather tired as he walked away. _That probably wasn't their first time having this conversation._

As he drew nearer, Jon could get a better look at the woman. She was dressed in men's clothes, with black leather breeches and high boots for ease of movement, her long and lean legs giving him the impression that she had no trouble jumping from ship to ship.

"Like what you see?" Her voice startled him, and he lifted his eyes to face her. She had a crooked grin on her lips. "There's places in Lys where they charge a man just for looking, you know."

Jon coughed and avoided her eyes. "Sorry. I was just…" He trailed off, trying to come up with a good excuse for leering at her legs, but none came to his mind. _Let's move on._ "I'm Jon Snow."

"So you're that king everyone's talking about." She looked him up and down and frowned. "The way people talk about you, I was expecting someone… _bigger._"

Jon was curious to hear what people were saying about him, but he made an effort to pretend he didn't care. "I'm sorry to disappoint my lady, but I wasn't expecting you at all."

The woman smiled. "I'm Yara Greyjoy, your escort." She made a grand gesture of bowing low, with one arm stretched out towards the ship and another close to her chest.

He noticed that some of her men were laughing loudly. _She's either mocking me or she doesn't think this was worth her time._ He found that he actually didn't care this time. "There's no need for that." He waved a hand. "I'm no longer a king."

"What?" She asked, taken aback.

"There has been a… _development._" Jon didn't feel comfortable talking about his real name here. "Now my sister Sansa is the Queen in the North. She has sent me to deal with Queen Daenerys." _My aunt,_ he added in his mind.

She frowned. "I suppose it doesn't change much. We could still use you as a hostage, after all." Her eyes told him she wouldn't hesitate to tie him up and lock him in a small room somewhere.

Ser Davos coughed, and Jon remembered the old knight was there. "This is Ser Davos Seaworth. He'll be joining me on the trip to Dragonstone."

"The onion knight!" Yara nodded. "I've heard about you too." She offered her hand, and the man shook it.

"Nothing bad, I hope." He said, genially. "I must say I miss having a wooden deck beneath my feet." He looked over at the ship. "This will be my first time on a longship. Is she fast?"

"The _Black Wind_ can outrun any vessel in the open sea." She sounded proud, but Jon couldn't help feeling that she was exaggerating. "Euron's _Silence_ may be tougher in a battle, but my ship is faster. We'll get there in no time."

Jon didn't see the point of staying in White Harbor any longer. "Shall we go then?"

"Sure." She started walking and waved at them to follow her. "I was just waiting for these fat merchants to give us better prices for our haul, but now that you're here I guess I could take what they offered."

They had reached the plank joining the ship and the dock, when Jon spotted a new face. Not new, but… _Theon._ He was in the ship, probably waiting to welcome them and lead them to their cabins. His face was a bit different than what Jon remembered, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

He saw the man try to open his mouth, but Jon's fist hit him square in the jaw. The force sent him reeling to the left. Jon moved without thought, reaching to grab Theon by the scruff of the neck as he prepared another punch. But his arm felt heavier.

Looking back, he saw Yara holding him back with some effort. "_That's enough!_" She shouted in his ear. "While you're in my ship, you'll obey my rules. And I say my brother's been punished for his crimes."

Jon hesitated, looking from sister to brother. He hadn't planned to do this, but the sight of the man's face had made his blood rise to his head. _He betrayed Robb. He took Winterfell. That's when my brother lost his war._ Jon knew there were plenty of other people to blame for his brother's death, but in his mind it had all started with Theon Greyjoy.

He looked into the man's eyes. "Robb loved you like a brother." His voice was dangerously low, his lips barely moving as his jaws were clenched tightly. "He trusted you. Now he's dead." After some time, Jon shook his head and finally let him go. Yara also released him, but Jon was still looking at Theon, who couldn't stop blinking and twitching. "But I also know what you did for Sansa." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "If not for you, that monster might have been ruling Winterfell now. You saved her, and she was the reason we won the battle."

Theon seemed to calm down a little himself. Jon had to make it clear. "I won't try to hurt you again. Sansa told me about Ramsay." _More than I wanted to know, and less than she was willing to say._ He shook his head. "Nothing I do can ever compare to that." Jon took another deep breath. "I'm grateful for what you did for Sansa, but I'll never forget what you did to Robb."

To his credit, Theon didn't look away. "That's fair." His voice sounded strange, due to his missing teeth. "There's nothing I can say to make things better. But I need you to know that I'm sorry. For everything."

Jon nodded back, but didn't reply. _Words are wind._ He had never really understood that phrase until this very moment. Words without actions behind them weighed less than nothing.

Yara took advantage of the silence and clapped loudly. "Well, now that's settled, let's find your quarters."

* * *

**I don't know if it's noticeable, but I like Yara. I'll try to keep adding her in every appropriate chapter.**

**And I know a lot of fans love Theon, but it was important to show that Jon remembers his actions. These two have a long history together, since they were both raised at Winterfell. They provide an interesting parallel, as both were outsiders to the main Starks.**

**The date is 25/05/2019**


	20. The Black Wind

**The trip to Dragonstone is eventful. Here, there be pirates. Arr!  
**

**Warning: This one really lives up to the M rating. Violence, language and explicit content.**

* * *

**20\. The Black Wind - Jon**

Jon had to admit he was wrong. The _Black Wind_ was just as fast as Yara Greyjoy had promised. He didn't have enough sailing experience to be able to judge, but Ser Davos did. Turning to his left, he looked at the man.

"In all my years at sea, I've never felt the wind fly so fast on my face." The old knight said out loud, when they were both walking on the deck. He had to practically shout just to be heard over the noise.

Jon didn't reply, busy with the effort of trying to stay in place. His heavy cloak was billowing behind him, pulling him backwards.

"You might want to lose that, Snow." A female voice made him turn around. Yara Greyjoy came strutting from the helm, taking long strides as she moved down towards them. "That cloak's far too heavy for these winds. Besides, it's not that cold out here anyway." She paused to take a good look at him. "In fact, I'd wager a northman like you wouldn't bother with the cold even if you were bare naked."

Her eyes lingered a bit too long for comfort, and he coughed before replying, "Well, then I guess I'll go change." He nodded at Ser Davos and walked away.

The lady captain's voice trailed after him, "Do you need help picking out your new clothes?" She asked loudly, and her men laughed with her. She seemed to enjoy making her crew laugh. _The woman could be a mummer._ When he wasn't the target of her humor, even Jon had cracked a smile at some of her jibes.

_At least the trip won't be boring,_ he mused, opening the door to his quarters. He had been sharing a cabin with Ser Davos. It wasn't all that comfortable, but they didn't have much between the two of them. He himself had only brought one cloak, a few other clothes and his leather armor, which he had been wearing for a while. _I should have this washed,_ he thought, but for some reason he didn't feel safe enough to remove it yet.

Unfastening his cloak, he glanced at the side of the room where Davos kept his things. Jon couldn't remember seeing the old knight in anything other than what he was currently wearing, so he was surprised to see a few different colors sticking out of a worn wooden chest. _I wonder what else he's brought…_

The door banged open and Ser Davos was standing at the doorway, breathing hard. "_Pirates!_" He answered the unasked question, moving past Jon and towards the wooden chest. "Four ships were blocking the way."

"What are we going to do?" Jon didn't know anything about sea battles. _I can swim, but hopefully I won't have to._

The old knight picked up his sword belt and started tying it around his waist. "I advised caution, but the Greyjoy lass wants to fight them." He turned to face Jon with a determined look. "It won't be easy. This is a fast vessel, and she has other ships with her, but I know what kinds of pirates travel these waters. However many ships we saw, they should have at least twice that number hidden just out of range. Be ready for a long battle."

Jon was already wearing his armor and sword belt, so he didn't need to prepare. _There's always another fight._ Together, they ran out to the main deck, passing by several other men going in the same direction. When they reached the open air, he caught the end of Yara's speech.

"So let's show these pretenders what a real pirate looks like!" She shouted, and her men roared, lifting their swords in the air. She moved back to the helm and started ordering everyone around while spinning the wheel. Jon didn't understand many of the words, but he heard something about _Ramming speed_ before the ship began to move faster.

"You'll want to brace yourself." Ser Davos warned, already grabbing hold of a nearby rope and looping it around his arm. Jon didn't waste time following his lead. He still tried to keep an eye on the enemy ships ahead. As the _Black Wind_ sailed closer and closer, they started scattering away.

_Not fast enough,_ he thought, before the ship slammed into one of them. _CRASH!_ The force of the impact had almost sent him tumbling forward, if not for Davos holding onto him. The pirate ship creaked and cracked until it started sinking into the depths, the crew jumping away to avoid being caught in the wake.

_Well, that was easy._ Turning to Ser Davos, Jon was about to say something when he spotted another pirate ship sailing around, trying to take the Black Wind from behind.

"Mind the bow!" Came the voice of Yara Greyjoy. "Oarsmen, about face!" After a short delay, the ship started moving backwards, almost as fast as it had moved forward. _How is that possible?_ He wondered, looking at the old knight.

Davos caught his eye. "Before now, I had only heard rumors about this. Apparently, they were true." He nodded, with a satisfied smile. "Ironborn longships are double-ended, and they can change directions without having to turn around."

Jon watched as the other ship also seemed surprised by the move, pausing in its tracks. Yara noticed. "Let's take this one, boys. A fine prize." And the _Black Wind_ moved a bit slower this time, until they came within range of the enemy vessel.

Some men were already waiting with hooks, throwing them over and attaching ropes between the ships. The Ironborn moved as one, climbing on the ropes to board the pirate ship. However, the pirates were also using the same ropes to climb aboard the _Black Wind._

"_To arms!_" Yara yelled, drawing her own weapons as she made her way down from the helm. She had a long dirk in one hand and an axe in the other, which she threw at the nearest pirate. It caught the man on the shoulder, sending him down to the wet deck.

Jon spotted another man sneaking in from the other side of the ship. Everyone else was focused on the ropes, so he nudged Ser Davos and pointed at the pirate.

"He's probably not alone." The old knight replied. "Let's go." So Jon drew _Longclaw_ and they moved quickly. By the time he got there, two more men were climbing aboard from the same place.

_Where are they coming from?_ He didn't have time to think, as the previous pirate slashed at him with a curved blade. Jon deflected the blow and mounted a counter, glancing the man on the leg. He noticed these men weren't wearing much in the way of armor, only a light tunic and breeches. The Ironborn wore armor, so Jon had simply assumed that every sailor wore them too. _I guess not._

With that advantage, the fight didn't take much longer. One powerful swing from his sharp Valyrian Steel sword took the man's unprotected arm clean off, blood splattering all over his face. The pirate lay at his feet, screaming in pain, but those other two came at him. Ser Davos caught the attention of one of them, but Jon knew he wasn't that good with a sword. _I'll need to work faster._ So he drew his other blade.

_Dark Sister_ and _Longclaw_ whirled in his hands, taking the pirate by surprise. This time he went full on offense, pressing the man backwards and backwards until he jumped back out of the ship. Jon went to see where he fell, and got a surprise. There was a small boat full of pirates on this side of the Black Wind, with about half a dozen men waiting to climb aboard. Two were climbing already. _So that's how they got here_.

He turned back to help Davos, but found that the onion knight didn't need his help. He was bleeding from a cut on his left arm, though it didn't seem too deep.

"They're coming from the side!" Jon shouted, pointing at the small boat.

Ser Davos went to see, but turned his head away just in time to avoid being slashed at the face, as another pirate climbed aboard. Jon stepped forward to block the way, and their blades clashed. He heard Davos say something and move away, as he quickly countered a blow and struck back forcefully, sending the man tumbling into the sea.

"Some of these men seem familiar…" Ser Davos searched for the biggest enemy ship, then picked up a Myrish lens from one of his pockets. Aiming it at the big ship, he murmured, "I can't believe it… _Salla, you fool!_"

_Who?_ Jon was about to ask, when yet another pirate came at him. "_Keep him alive!_" Davos yelled at him, as the man started slashing viciously. _Easy for you to say._ He dodged and parried the blade, waiting for an opening. Finally, the pirate dropped his guard and Jon sliced at his leg, making him lose balance. Quickly, Jon stepped on his arm and pried the sword from his grip.

Davos moved fast. "Do you work for Salladhor Saan?"

The pirate squirmed a bit, before nodding.

"Could you take me to him on that little boat of yours?"

"And why the fuck would I do that?" The man almost spat.

Davos sighed. "If you haven't seen it by now, you've picked the wrong target. Unless you let me help you, the Greyjoy woman will kill you all." His voice was grave.

While they waited, another two pirates came to fight._ It never ends._ Jon moved to face them, trying a more defensive strategy this time. They were only good enough to provide a challenge. He was about to knock one down, when he heard a whistle.

"_Enough!_" The injured pirate yelled, and both of his allies stopped fighting. "We'll take you to the captain."

* * *

Soon enough, they were standing side by side in the pirate flagship, waiting for the man Davos had called Salladhor Saan, who he claimed was a friend from his smuggler days. Jon wasn't very sure about this plan, but he trusted the old knight enough to follow along.

"Davos, my old friend!" A dark-skinned man smiled broadly, as he approached to greet them. He was dressed just as lightly as the other pirates, only distinguished by the fact he was wearing a green hat with a large feather. "I would never have expected to find you on the other side of a battle." He turned to Jon. "And who's this?"

"This is Jon Snow, the Prince of Winterfell." Ser Davos replied.

Salladhor Saan frowned and shook his head. "You're slipping, onion knight. Last we met, you were following a king."

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Davos forestalled him. "Nevermind that, what are you doing here? Did you really think it was wise to attack _Ironborn longships?_" He asked, as the sounds of the sea battle still raged all around them.

Looking back, Jon could see that Yara had already captured that ship. And the _Black Wind_ was repositioning itself to ram yet another vessel.

"These are desperate times, my friend." The pirate's smile faltered. "I've been avoiding Euron Greyjoy's fleet, but once we saw a smaller target we had to try our luck."

Davos sighed and put a hand to his head. "Always the gambler… Look, you have to strike your colors immediately."

"_Are you mad?_" Saan replied, barking a laugh. "We can't trust Greyjoys. They won't stop simply because our flags are down."

"Lady Greyjoy was just escorting Jon, she has no reason to pursue your ships if you surrender." Davos tried to reason.

Saan looked at him with raised eyebrows. "So this prince is more valuable than he looks…" He seemed to be thinking hard. _I shouldn't have come here._ Jon hadn't contributed at all, and now he was at the mercy of a stranger.

Ser Davos looked from one to the other. "Salla…"

The pirate hesitated for a moment, then he huffed. "_Fine!_ Some friend you are..." He threw his hands in the air and made a gesture. "_Strike the colors!_" He shouted, and the crew ran to follow his command, sounding a loud horn.

After a while, all of his ships had their flags lowered and the fighting stopped. Glancing back, Jon noticed the _Black Wind_ was slowing down and changing its course, moving towards them.

"Let us see if this Lady Captain is as reasonable as you say."

* * *

The matter with Salladhor Saan and the pirates was resolved rather peacefully. Yara Greyjoy had even agreed to return the ships they seized during the battle, taking only a portion of their gold as compensation before they parted ways. Ser Davos had played an important role in the negotiations, making sure the talks never turned to violence.

On their way back, the lady captain seemed furious with Jon. "What the fuck were you doing in his ship?" He opened his mouth to argue, but she barreled on, "What if that cunt had decided to keep you hostage?"

"I didn't think-" He started, but she interrupted him.

"No you didn't, did you? Do you ever think before you act?" He remained silent this time._ Let her vent._ "How you ever became king of anything is beyond me."

"Yara…" Theon said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and noticed how everyone was looking at them.

She sighed and turned back towards him. "I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you, _prince._ From now on, you'll stay by my side until we get to Dragonstone."

And he stayed by her side. As he did so, he watched her. When she was at the helm, he would watch her hands working the wheel. When the wind picked up speed, he would watch her close her eyes and lean backwards to let her brown hair flow freely. Sometimes she would catch him staring. _That's two gold dragons you owe me, Snow,_ she would say, with a smile on her face. After night came, he was making his way to the room he shared with Davos when she blocked his path.

"I told you, I'm not letting you out of my sight." She grinned. "You're coming with me." And she grabbed his arm, leading him to her captain's quarters.

A few hours later, she was screaming with pleasure from the way he had worked his tongue deep inside her. The strength of her legs wrapped around his head almost made him pass out, as she began shaking her entire body. After the last spasm died out, he moved take a good look at her face.

She was breathing heavily, with her mouth half-open. Her cheeks were flushed with heat and her dark eyes were glazed over. _She's actually a rather beautiful woman, when she's not cursing or killing anyone._

When she noticed him staring, she grinned. "Is that…" She breathed, "...all you've…" Her breasts heaving, "...got?" She rose up and whispered in his ear, "Fuck me, bastard." Then she bit him hard on the neck, drawing blood. _Fuck!_

He grabbed her firm ass with both hands and rammed deep inside her, sending the whole bed backwards. She let out a moan and arched her back, her brown hair cascading down. _My turn,_ he thought, as he leaned in to bite her nipple. She seemed to enjoy it, as her legs wrapped around him tightly, urging him on. He took the cue and thrust harder and harder until she screamed again, only this time he could feel her spasms from the inside. _Gods!_ He buried himself deep and reached his own climax, joining her peak. Her shaking increased even more, before they both collapsed on the bed.

After a few moments, he heard her voice. "That was…" He turned to look at her. She was still struggling to breathe evenly, her eyes wide and her eyebrows high on her forehead. "...a nice start." She finished, with a crooked grin. "You'll have to try harder next time."

* * *

**Why do I keep writing sea battles? These things are a pain. **

**I've always thought Jon would get along well with Yara (or Asha, in the books), since she kinda reminds me of Ygritte. Just as a heads up, this couple isn't endgame.  
**

**I considered keeping Salladhor Saan involved, but it didn't feel right. I don't think he'd be willing to support yet another ruler, after his alliance with Stannis went so poorly. He was fun to write, though. Maybe he'll show up again later.**

**The date is 26/05/2019**

**Edited 15/06/2019 (made Jon's clothing descriptions a bit more vague, since it comes up later)**


	21. Three-eyed Raven

**The creature formerly known as Bran arrives at Winterfell.**

**I must say, it's been a challenge to write Sansa chapters now. I usually write in chunks, based on location, so the fact that she's basically alone in Winterfell doesn't help. It should get better as I add more characters, though.  
**

**I have written a handful of chapters with Dany, Jon and Tyrion, but Sansa's arc can't just happen in the background because some stuff happens there that also involves Winterfell. I won't spoil too much here, but I'll think about what to skip later on.**

* * *

**21\. Three-eyed Raven - Sansa**

"Where's he?" The loud voice of Tormund Giantsbane broke her concentration. "I was only gone for a few days. I come back, everything's different." Brienne made a disapproving sound, but remained silent by her side.

Sansa had been in the middle of writing a letter to her uncle Edmure Tully, who had taken control of both Riverrun and the Twins. Older reports from the Riverlands had told of a massacre involving most of the male Freys, and her uncle had clearly taken advantage of the confusion to restore order. She hoped to convince him to send soldiers North and help in the battle against the dead. _I can't convince him with words alone, though._ That's why she had sent for Tormund.

"If you mean Jon, he's just left for Dragonstone." She replied evenly. "To treat with Daenerys Targaryen."

The wildling frowned, confused. "Isn't he your king? I thought you kneelers loved to order other people to do your jobs for you."

She sighed. Sansa knew Jon had an affection for wildlings, but unless they learned how to show proper respect, they would never be accepted anywhere south of the Wall.

"I'm the queen now. He's gone on my behalf. And speaking of orders…" She hesitated, knowing he wouldn't like to be commanded to do something. "I need your help." _Yes, t__hat should work._ "Before he left, Jon had an idea. He wants to capture one of those dead soldiers. What do you call them, again?"

"_Wights._" He shook his head. "But that's a terrible idea. How would we find them? If we do find them, how would we pick up just one? And then carry it back…" When he laid it out like that, it really seemed unlikely to work. "No, it doesn't make sense. Unless we could know for sure where to find a small group, this will never work." He finished, waving a hand.

She bit her lip. "Have you seen how the White Walkers raise the dead?" He nodded, so she continued, "Would it be possible to simply carry a dead body with you to a safe distance beyond the Wall and wait for it to rise?" She had no idea how any of this worked, but she couldn't simply give up. _If we can't convince anyone to help, the North will fall first._

The bearded man scratched his chin. "Might be. We'd have to be careful of an ambush, but I reckon it could work."

"Good. I'll send a raven to Lord Commander Tollett and see if he can help." She nodded. "And before you leave, have you given any thought to where you and your people will stay?"

"When the little crow was Lord Commander, he let us settle in the Gift." He replied. Sansa knew the history about the lands immediately south of the Wall. Brandon the Builder had given up twenty-five leagues to the Night's Watch. Which was then increased by another twenty-five leagues by King Jaehaerys I, forming the New Gift.

The lands in the Gift weren't subject to any ruler other than the Night's Watch, so the taxes and goods they produced wouldn't come to Winterfell. _That won't do._

"What if I gave you the Dreadfort?" Sansa asked him. She wanted to destroy the castle and every memory of House Bolton, but that would be a waste of resources. "There are good lands surrounding it, and the castle is a strong fortress. I'll need a loyal bannerman there."

Tormund narrowed his eyes. "You want us to kneel?"

She smiled, hoping it seemed genuine. "You won't have to kneel, but if you wish to live south of the Wall you'll have to compromise. I cannot treat you differently than any of my other lords."

He barked a laugh. "So if we go to this Dreadfort, I'll be a lord?" His eyes were shining with glee.

"You or whoever else your people choose to follow." She nodded. "And one of the most powerful lords in the North, given the importance of the castle."

"I'll have to talk it over with the rest of the freefolk." He seemed cautious. "I'm not sure they're ready to give up their freedom."

"Very well." She was satisfied with the answer. _Anything else would be too easy._ "But you must consider the future. If we win the war against the Army of the Dead, there should be something left to rebuild." She spoke with passion in her voice. Jon had been too focused on the war to be able to see anything beyond it. She loved him with all her heart, yet a ruler needed to worry about more than wars.

He nodded and left the room.

After a while, Brienne coughed. "Are you sure about this, Your Grace? He doesn't seem ready for such responsibilities."

Sansa grinned. _He'll never get anywhere with her._ "He's loyal. For now, that should be enough. He can learn the rest in time. And if he doesn't, his children will." She sighed. "What we can't have is such a large area without anyone to defend it and make it productive." She started writing another letter. "Because winter is here."

* * *

Bran arrived only a few days after Jon had left for White Harbor. However, her younger brother had changed. He was the Three-eyed Raven now. She had no idea what that meant, but he spoke it like a title. Sansa had talked to him only once after his arrival, and that time was enough to unnerve her.

He seemed to know things nobody else should know. Animals acted strangely around him, their eyes turning a pale white color. He liked to stay at the godswood, near the Winterfell Heart Tree, so she had decided to keep her distance.

"Bran is gone." Meera Reed said, in a sad voice. They were meeting in her solar, as Sansa had invited both Reeds to talk.

"What happened to him?" She didn't know much about their journey beyond the Wall.

Lady Reed sighed. "He was fine until we reached the old man in the tree." She had a distant look in her eyes, as if recalling the memory. "Then the Night King attacked, and all hell broke loose. The Children died, Summer died, and Hodor…"

Lord Howland put a hand over her shoulder, in a comforting way. "The Old Gods have their reasons." The man said, quietly.

Sansa held the urge to roll her eyes. She had stopped praying a long time ago._ If the gods are real, they're cruel beasts unworthy of worship._ Looking for meaning in the tragedy of life seemed like a waste of time to her. _It's up to men and women to shape the world, not gods._ However, she knew enough to keep silent. _If my people need to believe in something, let them._

"He says he's the Three-eyed Raven." She said, turning to face Lord Howland. "What does that mean?"

He hesitated, frowning. "I remember Jojen mentioning him several times when he was younger. The boy used to have many dreams of a crow with three eyes, who guided his visions." He scratched his chin. "I was curious, so I went to the godswood to speak to Bran. From what I could gather, he's the most powerful greenseer alive at any time. The Three-eyed Raven holds this world's memory, and he's able to recall everything that has happened, or is happening right now. Perhaps even glimpses of the future." Then he took a deep breath. "So long as he knows where to look." He added, shrugging.

_Everything?_ "That does sound intriguing." Sansa had been unnerved by her earlier conversation with Bran, but if what Lord Reed just said was true, he could become her greatest asset. _I won't need spies if he can see everything._ "I'll have to figure out a way to adapt. My brother is gone, but he's still here at Winterfell. We'll have to get along." She said, trying to figure out the best way to use his powers.

Lord Reed cleared his throat. "Well, now that Meera has returned, I think it's a good time for us to go back to Greywater Watch." He said quietly, fixing her with those green eyes.

She took a deep breath, gaining time to think. _Do I still need him here?_ She considered. He was the only living witness to Jon's birthright, but now that everyone else in the North knew… _No, he can go._ She smiled. "I'm sorry to see you leave, my lord. You and Meera will always find a home in Winterfell." She added, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

Meera gave her a weak smile. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm really sorry about Bran." Her eyes were still watery. _Poor girl._

"Don't be." Sansa shook her head and reached for the girl's hand, holding it with both of hers. "And I'm the one who should be thanking you. I promise you that House Stark will never forget the debt we owe to you and your family." She turned to look at Lord Reed as well. "For all that you've done."

Lord Howland grinned. "Ned was my dearest friend in the world. If there's anything I can do to keep his children safe, I won't hesitate."

She nodded. "For now, just make sure the Neck is well-fortified. Jon went south to treat with Daenerys, but the North still has enemies." Sansa wouldn't rest until she saw Cersei Lannister dead at her feet. _And maybe not even then._

"As you wish, Your Grace." He said, bowing slightly. As Meera got up to leave, he continued, "But this isn't goodbye. When the Night King comes, House Reed will answer the call."

* * *

As she approached the boy sitting by the Winterfell Heart Tree, Sansa couldn't help feeling a sense of loss. _He's not Bran,_ she had to remind herself. _My brother is gone._

A movement to her right caught her attention. She spotted a blur of white between the trees, and soon enough Ghost came bounding towards her. She smiled, removing a glove to pet the wolf. His warm fur offered her some measure of comfort.

"He knows how you feel." Bran's monotone voice made her raise her head. "Direwolves are sensitive creatures." His face held no expression. The blue eyes she remembered being so full of joy when they were younger, now seemed dull and empty.

"What happened to Bran?" She wanted to know. _Surely there must still be something left of her little brother in there?_

"Much and more." Was the vague reply. "Brandon Stark has fulfilled his purpose. You should be happy for him."

She wasn't happy at all. _He was just a boy who wanted to be a knight._ Sansa felt like screaming at his face, or slapping him until she could see her brother again. But then she sighed. _I can't change this. __Let's focus on the future._

"I was told you can see everything. Is that right?"

He nodded slowly. "I know you want to use my powers to counter and remove Petyr Baelish. Have you considered that might not be in your best interests?"

"Why not?" She asked, confused.

"Despite his mistakes, the man is in love with you." He paused. "_Obsessed_ is a better word to describe it. Regardless, he remains focused on increasing your power. Why not allow him to continue?"

_If he has to ask, he doesn't really know everything._ She made a mental note of that. "The last time I allowed him to dictate my future, I was tortured by a monster." She would never allow anyone else to control her. "Whatever power I desire to wield, it should come from my own efforts. And it won't come by killing innocents." She said, remembering the plan to kill Robin Arryn.

"Nothing in this world comes without sacrifice." He droned on. "Sometimes a single death can provide a far better outcome for thousands of innocents."

She raised her eyebrows high into her forehead, surprised at his words. "Are you suggesting that Littlefinger's plan is the right thing to do?"

"Right and wrong are merely words." He replied, still in that monotone voice. "If you were to follow his plan, you would rule over two kingdoms and still be free to marry whomever you desire. With further planning, you could even extend your reach. Does that not interest you?"

Sansa couldn't deny his cold logic. _Too cold for me._ "What interests me is protecting the North and its people. I sincerely doubt Lord Baelish cares about that."

"True. He only cares about you. And sitting on the Iron Throne." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "So many have cared about that chair, and with such intensity…" He opened his eyes again. "If you truly want him gone, I suggest you wait three days."

She frowned. "Why? What happens in three days?"

"Arya Stark arrives at Winterfell."

* * *

**I was wrong about Bran earlier. He's actually rather interesting to write about. I'm working on a new endgame for him, after figuring out a few things during this chapter. **

**And next chapter I can finally write about Arya! She's of my favorites, but I'm a little hesitant. She's kinda like Bran right now, in the sense that they're both overpowered. She could easily solve most of the conflicts going on, so I'll have to find a way to limit her powers.  
**

**Or just solve every conflict and move on. Let's see what's more interesting.**

**The date is 29/05/2019**


	22. Faceless Woman

**Arya arrives and removes a problem. Then she creates another.**

* * *

**22\. Faceless Woman - Sansa**

_This isn't nearly enough,_ she thought, looking over the report that Maester Wolkan had written for her. _Our food stocks are dangerously low._ The North had always persevered through harsh winters before, but this time her people didn't have the opportunity to prepare. _So many wars…_

"My queen?" Littlefinger's voice called from behind the door.

She sighed, raising a hand to massage her forehead. _When will I be rid of him?_ She wondered, before nodding to Brienne. The tall woman moved to open the door, and the man's smiling face greeted her.

"What is it, my lord? I'm a busy woman." She said, picking up a quill. _Perhaps the Iron Bank can help. We can't eat gold or silver._ They could trade it for something more useful. She would have to write to Braavos, then make sure White Harbor had enough ships for the voyage.

"Yes, of course." He nodded, with a smirk. "Being Queen in the North must be taxing. Though I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."

She paused and fixed him with a glare. _Get to the point._

He blinked a few times and continued, "Well, I just wanted to warn you of Lord Robin Arryn's arrival. He's sent word from Castle Cerwyn, so he shouldn't be long." He glanced at the papers on her desk, trying to catch a glimpse of their content.

Sansa folded her hands and laid them on the desk, blocking his view. "Thank you. If that's all…" She raised her eyebrows.

"He's bringing ten thousand soldiers to help your cause." He made to leave, but stopped at the door to look back, "And all the surplus grain, wheat and vegetables the Vale had to offer." With that, he left.

Brienne closed the door behind him. "He certainly tries very hard to please you…" She turned around. "Too late, if you ask me."

Sansa sighed. _Was the Three-eyed Raven right? Should I use him?_ "Indeed. Nothing he does now will ever erase what he did before. I'll never forgive him." She picked up the quill again and started writing.

"Your Grace!" Another voice disturbed her. This time it was unfamiliar.

She nodded to Brienne, and the woman opened. Two guards entered, looking flustered.

"Yes? Is something wrong?" She asked.

They looked at each other, almost trying to push the other one to talk. Eventually, one of them spoke, "W-Well, it's just that there's a girl at the South Gate, Your Grace."

The other gained courage and added, "And she's going on and on about Luwin, and Rodrik, and other names we've never heard before…"

_Arya!_ She quickly rose from her seat, her heartbeat racing. "Where is she?"

"We told her to wait near the smithy."

Sansa practically ran towards the South Gate, moving as fast as her long dress allowed her. But when she arrived there, her sister was nowhere to be found. _Where…_ She considered looking for her, before remembering that Bran could see everything. _Next time, I'll just go to him first._ So she went to the godswood.

The Three-eyed Raven was at his usual spot, near the Heart Tree. Only his chair was different. There were big wheels strapped to either side, and track marks on the snow. _Clever._ It should make it easier for him to move.

"Nice chair." She greeted him.

He turned to look at her with those dead eyes. "Maester Wolkan helped me build it. Based on an old design." He paused. "You're looking for Arya."

"Yes." Sansa replied, thinking of how boring it must be to always know everything._ I suppose nothing would surprise me,_ she conceded, _but not all surprises are unpleasant._

"You've just missed her. We were talking about your father." _Our father, Bran,_ she thought, sadly. He continued, "She seemed upset when I told her that Petyr Baelish had been responsible for Lord Stark's arrest in King's Landing."

"What?" She didn't know about this.

"Eddard Stark had put his faith in Baelish, but when they confronted Cersei Lannister in front of the Iron Throne, he was betrayed." His monotone voice made it sound like he was reading stories from a book. _A terrible story._ He closed his eyes. "_I did warn you not to trust me._" He opened his eyes. "The knife he used then will be used again today."

Sansa was both angry and confused. "Can you at least try to make sense? Where's Arya?"

"She is going to kill Petyr Baelish." He replied. "You cannot stop her. He's on her list now." _On her list? What does that even mean?_ The more he talked, the less sense he made.

"But where is she, exactly?" Sansa had her own plans for Littlefinger. He would still die, though only after she had proven his many crimes to the Vale lords. _Especially Robin Arryn._

"She is at the Bell Tower, waiting for him." He closed his eyes. "He's sending a raven from the rookery. But he never leaves a room from the same place he entered. He'll take the bridge to the Bell Tower." He re-opened his eyes. "She has learned much from her time in the House of Black and White."

Sansa didn't even say goodbye before leaving. She had to convince Arya to wait. At least until Lord Arryn arrived with his army. _If Baelish dies before that…_ She didn't even want to think about it. _Robin might do something rash._

When she arrived at the Bell Tower, she climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and paused in front of the door to the bridge. She was about to push it open, when it creaked on its own. A short young woman dressed in men's clothes appeared before her.

"Sansa." Arya's voice was a bit different than what she remembered as a child, but the feeling remained the same. "It's been a-"

She tackled her sister in a fierce hug, holding her tight. _The Starks are home now._ Her eyes watered a bit, as she felt a mixture of guilt and relief at the same time. _We were horrible to each other, but now we're the only ones left._ After the emotion subsided, she noticed Arya wasn't holding her nearly as tightly. She pulled away from the embrace.

"You look good." Sansa took a moment to examine her. She had her hair pulled back in the northern style, and a thin blade on her belt. "When Bran said you were coming, I almost didn't believe him."

Arya frowned. "Bran says a lot of things now. He's different." _That's an understatement,_ she thought, remembering another thing he had said.

"What about Lord Baelish?" Sansa craned her neck to the side, to try and see beyond. "Did you…" She didn't finish the question, afraid of the answer.

"Yes. He's dead." Arya replied, without emotion. "I took his knife and sliced his throat." And she presented the blade. Sansa recognized the familiar shine. _It's Valyrian Steel._

She was unnerved by how her sister had so calmly talked about taking a life. "Arya…" She sighed, massaging her temple. "Why did you do that?"

Arya shrugged. "He was guilty. I swung the sword." Father used to say that. _He who passes the sentence should swing the sword._ Lord Stark had executed many deserters and criminals, yet none of his daughters had ever seen him deliver the king's justice. _He wanted to protect us. It didn't work._

"But who passed the sentence?" Sansa had to make this clear, otherwise she could become a problem in the future. "If what Bran said is true, that was just another of his many crimes. We needed to put him on trial and make sure everyone could witness why he was going to die." She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Assassinating him quietly doesn't help anyone."

"I wasn't trying to help. I was delivering justice." Arya justified herself.

"If nobody sees it, you can't call it justice." Sansa was growing tired, but she continued, "How are we going to explain this to the Vale lords? Or to our own people?" She asked, yet didn't wait for a reply. "If Baelish could be killed without a trial, then anyone can be killed in the same way. As far as everyone knew, he was a guest in our home. They would never respect the Stark name again. Have you considered that?"

Arya blinked a few times, clearly thinking about the question. "No." She said in a sad voice, casting her eyes down. _Good,_ Sansa thought, _at least she understands the gravity of the situation now._

"Lord Robin Arryn is coming from the Vale with an army of ten thousand soldiers." Sansa was already thinking of how to explain Littlefinger's death. _Maybe he was poisoned by his enemies?_ She would need to speak to Maester Wolkan and persuade the man to help. "He was last seen at Castle Cerwyn, so he should arrive today. I'll have to find a way to convince him we had nothing to do with his father's death."

"_His father?_" Arya asked. "I thought Jon Arryn was his father."

"Lord Baelish had married aunt Lysa some time ago. Then he killed her." Sansa was the only witness to that murder. _I should've accused him._ So much pain and suffering could have been avoided had she only told the truth. "But Robin loved him even before that." _His uncle Petyr._

Arya looked back at the way she came, a frown on her face. "Maybe I can help."

Sansa raised a hand, shaking her head. "No, that's fine." _You've done enough,_ she wanted to say. "I'll speak to Lord Arryn."

Arya nodded at the door. "I'll take care of it." _The body._ She didn't want to look at it, but Robin might.

"Just make sure it's presentable. And that there are no visible marks." Sansa wasn't sure her sister knew how to do that. "If you need help, maester Wolkan should be available at the turret below the rookery."

She said goodbye and left her sister. _What happened to her?_ Sansa wondered, as she made her way down. _Bran is the Three-eyed Raven and Arya is a cold assassin._ She wished Jon were here. Despite everything that had happened to him, he was still Jon. She could still talk to him like a normal person. He hadn't changed. _But Jon is Aegon Targaryen_, a small voice told her. Perhaps even he will change, after spending time with his aunt.

She shook her head. _Let's worry about one thing at a time._

* * *

The Vale army arrived later that day. Houses Arryn, Belmore, Corbray, Grafton, Hunter, Redfort, Royce, Templeton and Waynwood were only a few of the banners Sansa could recognize at a distance. _Practically every family has sent a representative,_ she mused, with trepidation. They must be expecting a wedding.

She was lined up with most of her lords and ladies near the South Gate. Sansa made sure to wear her most extravagant dress, a splendidly white gown adorned by red details at the sleeves, covered by a simple grey fur cloak. Brienne was standing close by, having been warned of the possibility of conflict. And Ghost was sitting on his haunches at a safe distance, his red eyes scanning the area with attention. _Hopefully it won't come to violence._

A carriage with the banner of a blue falcon against a white moon on a blue field stopped by the gate. _House Arryn._ Two servants moved to open the door, and Lord Robin Arryn stepped outside. The young man was pale, with brown hair and big dark eyes. He was dressed in a doublet of cream and blue, covered by a thick white bearskin cloak.

He seemed overwhelmed by the number of people watching him, as he darted his eyes from one person to another. Lord Yohn Royce stepped forward to greet his liege, probably worried about how the Vale was represented in the North. _Robin really doesn't make a good first impression._

"My lord, this is Sansa Stark." Lord Royce moved a hand towards her. "The Queen in the North."

Lord Arryn sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. _Graceful._ "Nice to see you again, cousin." He said, bowing awkwardly.

"Likewise, my lord." She replied, with a practised smile on her face. "The North welcomes you. And we hope this alliance can provide a better future for all of us."

He nodded. "Yes. Uncle Petyr said something similar in his letter." He glanced around, narrowing his eyes. "Where is he, anyway? I expected to see his face before all others. He was the reason I came here in the first place."

Sansa took a deep breath, steeling herself. _The key to a good lie is mixing a little truth into it,_ he used to say. Time to prove it. "Lord Baelish is-"

"Right here, my queen." Littlefinger's smooth voice interrupted her. She turned to see… _Impossible._ There he was, dressed in a blue velvet tunic, covered by a grey silk cloak fastened with a silver mockingbird, just the same as the last time she had seen him alive. He was coming from the direction of the kitchens.

_Did Arya lie about killing him, or… What?_ Sansa didn't know what to think.

"Forgive me for my lateness, but I was _dead tired._" He smiled at her, his eyes shining.

* * *

**Well, this is interesting. Sorry about killing him offscreen, but it was important that Sansa didn't get to see the body.**

**Alright, I had misgivings about this part of the story, but with Bran and Arya things can become quite fun.**

**The date is 31/05/2019**


	23. Betrayal

**Lord Tarly makes a choice.**

**Unrelated note: I've checked the previous chapters, and I was surprised to notice that Sansa has more chapters than both Dany and Tyrion combined. Jon too, but half of the story is about him so it wasn't as surprising.  
**

**Anyway, I'm going to hold off on Winterfell chapters for a while. At least until they become absolutely necessary. I know there are some balls in the air over there, but it's nothing that can't wait.**

* * *

**23\. Betrayal - Randyll**

Harrenhal was a massive castle. It had five towers of monstrous scale, and its walls were thick enough to withstand any force known to man. _Except dragons,_ as Aegon the Conqueror had proven centuries ago. It was also too big to maintain. No lord in Westeros could afford to stay in this accursed place for too long.

_That's fine,_ Randyll thought. His own stay should be temporary. The Lannister army had been spotted marching up along the Gods Eye river, and they should arrive imminently. He had assembled his forces in accordance to the instructions given to him by the letter he carried in his pocket. _Mostly._

He wouldn't trust his family's future to this gamble. He had given command of two thousand knights to his son, with express orders to flee at the first sign of trouble. They would be positioned at an incline to the Northwest, near High Heart, a good distance away from the rest of the army. Dickon was to make for Riverrun and regroup there, before deciding the best course of action.

Randyll had already accepted the offer to become Warden of the South. His ride from Casterly Rock to Harrenhal had been enough to convince him. _Savages, bastards and eunuchs,_ those were the forces he had agreed to help take over his homeland. The dragon girl would never be accepted by the lords of Westeros. And now that she had lost one of her dragons, even her military might wasn't assured.

"Why we inside?" The tall horselord asked him in broken words. _These savages can't even speak our language properly._ Randyll couldn't wait to be rid of them.

The dornish bastard weighed in. "Good question. Why keep our cavalry inside the castle? They should be out in the open field, to prepare for a charge." _Obara Sand._ Her very name sounded like something a lord forgot and dropped on the floor. _Flowers, Hill, Pyke, Rivers, Sand, Snow, Stone, Waters._ Whoever named the bastards of each kingdom had done a good job. _Every bastard is a reminder of their father's shame._

He sighed and put a hand on his bald head. "A wise commander doesn't show his full strength until he's certain of victory." He wasn't comfortable lying, even to these people. _A half-truth then._ "Our combined forces should be just enough to fool the Lannisters into overconfidence. When the Kingslayer takes the bait, we'll open the gates and overwhelm his army."

The bastard girl nodded, then the tall savage did too. Randyll scowled as they walked away. He hated having to explain himself. He was their lord commander. It was their duty to follow his orders, without question. _All the more reason find someone who appreciates my talents._

A young man came running towards him. "My lord!" He said, breathing heavily. "They're here."

* * *

"Lord Tarly." Ser Jaime Lannister greeted him. He was wearing golden plated armor, astride a white horse. To his side was a black-haired man with a poorly trimmed beard, wearing little in the way of armor. _Odd company._

They were meeting in the middle of the battlefield under a white banner, with the Gods Eye lake to the east, and the great gate of Harrenhal within sight. He had left two trustworthy Tarly men with specific instructions to keep it locked, unless he himself was at the gates.

"Ser Jaime." He replied, glancing at the Lannister forces. His scout had suggested they had no more than fifteen thousand soldiers. _A good estimate,_ though he knew better than to trust his eyes.

The Kingslayer turned his face to look at the forces arrayed in front of the great castle. "Your army seems much smaller than I expected, my lord." He drawled, with a smirk on his face.

Randyll caught a smile on the face of that bastard girl, before turning to face him. _If she had any doubts, they were just erased._ "Then it should be a quick battle." He replied.

The Lannister frowned. "Are you sure you won't reconsider? There's still time to join the winning side."

He hesitated, thinking of how best to communicate his intent without giving anything away to his companions. "I'll only serve Cersei Lannister when dragonfire rains on Harrenhal again." He said, fixing the man with a pointed glare.

Ser Jaime nodded, smiling slightly. "I understand." As he turned his horse away, he said, "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." Then he led his men back to their side, joining the rest of the Lannister army.

"An odd thing to say before a battle." The bastard girl said, frowning. Randyll had heard it often enough. _Never from enemies._

"It's meaningless." He turned his own horse back, now assured that Ser Jaime knew his intentions. "Come, and let us prepare our forces for the first assault." He ordered, all the while thinking of ways to stall long enough for Euron Greyjoy to make his appearance.

* * *

"They don't seem to be moving at all." One of his officers made the observation. _Ser Hyle Hunt._ The man had a plain face and a crooked nose, but he was loyal. _That's what matters now._ It had been roughly an hour since their talks. His men were getting restless. _And restless men make foolish mistakes._ "Should we attack, my lord?" The man asked, eagerly.

_"No!"_ Randyll quickly replied, speaking loudly enough so everyone around could hear. "We follow the plan. If we stray too far from the castle, our strategy won't work."

Most of the soldiers seemed content to wait. _Except the Dornish._ "This is boring." The bastard girl defied him. "I say we charge. _Who's with me?_" She shouted, raising her spear. Many others agreed with her, for other spears were raised as well.

Before Randyll could object, the better part of the Dornish army charged at the Lannisters. "Fools." He sighed, looking around to take stock of how many had stayed behind.

"My lord, shouldn't we help them?" Ser Hyle asked.

"If they're so eager to die, it's not my-" Suddenly, he heard a loud screeching noise. "Did you hear that?"

Looking up at the sky, the shape of a green dragon grew closer and closer. He turned to his men and shouted. _"Now! Forward march!"_ And he spurred his own horse as far as he could from Harrenhal.

He heard the sound of billowing flames, and didn't bother looking back. Men and horse alike were being burned alive inside that cursed place. _Good riddance,_ he thought, trying to ignore the stench of burning flesh rising in the air.

Randyll focused on the battle ahead. The Dornish charge had been stuck on their shield wall, while the Lannister horse attacked from the west. It was a clever tactic, forcing them to back into the lake. To her credit, the bastard girl was managing to hold their position. _But that won't last long._

_"Hold!"_ He commanded, and the men stopped. _The deed is done._ The horselords were probably all dead by now. He just had to wait until the chaos subsided and he could talk to Ser Jaime.

"My lord?" Ser Hyle looked confused. "If we don't help them, they'll…" Randyll fixed him with a glare. "Yes, my lord." He said, keeping his head down.

As he watched, several Dornish soldiers were breaking position already. Some falling into the lake, others into a Lannister sword. _This solves two problems at once,_ he considered, since he doubted the bastard girl would have agreed with his new alliance.

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Randyll turned his eyes back to Harrenhal to get a better look at the dragon. A thick black smoke was rising from the castle, clouding the blue sky in darkness. _Where did it go?_ He wondered, as he searched the battlefield.

His question was answered by a jet of flame descending down into the group of people fighting by the lake. _Seven save us!_ That Greyjoy maniac was burning everyone, be they Dornish or Lannister.

The cries of screaming soldiers echoed all around him, while the smell made his horse panic. He patted the mare's neck, making soothing sounds until the brown destrier calmed down. He had to do something about this, before it was too late.

_"Archers!"_ He shouted at his men. "Take down that beast!" He commanded, pointing at the flying dragon. They hurried to follow his order, shooting arrow after arrow. But they all bounced away.

"My lord, the scales are too strong! We can't pierce them!"

Feeling more and more desperate, he shouted, _"Then aim for the rider!"_ Euron Greyjoy was truly mad. While Randyll had been worried about picking a side in the war, the Crow's Eye clearly had higher aspirations. _Maybe he'll try to kill both queens and take the crown for himself._ On the back of a dragon, he didn't have to kneel to anyone.

When the archers tried to aim, another stream of fire rained down on them. The acrid smell filled his nostrils, and the black smoke rising made it near impossible to see what was happening around him. All he could feel was the unbearable heat surrounding him.

His horse buckled, bringing him down face first into the ground. Pushing himself up, he caught a glimpse of something green. Before he could give voice to his thoughts, he heard a _WOOOOOSH._

_Nooooo!_ As the flames enveloped him, Randyll felt his own flesh cooking in his armor, a pain so intense it seemed to come from his own insides, melting away into the steel. His last thought was of his son, hoping against hope that his House wouldn't be destroyed for his mistake.

* * *

**Exit Randyll Tarly. It's that Harrenhal curse again. I wonder who will be the next lord? **

**I decided to keep Dickon alive. Be certain he'll show up later. Jaime is also alive, by the way. **

**On a related note, I think I'll need to show King's Landing eventually, but whose POV can I use there? Qyburn would be interesting, though it could be Jaime or Cersei herself. I'll have to think about it.**

**The date is 02/06/2019**


	24. Aegon

**The last Targaryens meet each other. Finally. **

**This is another one I had to rewrite. Initially, it was Jon's POV (again - I guess he's my default choice) but after I realised both he and Sansa had so many chapters already, I decided to change it.  
**

**Frankly, I think it works better this way. Tyrion is an impartial third party, so we don't get any insights into what either of them are thinking yet. That will come later.**

* * *

**24\. Aegon - Tyrion**

"Should we tell the Queen?" Varys asked him, concern etched on his face. _Again,_ Tyrion noted. It was the same discussion they had several days ago, when the news first came from Winterfell.

Jon Snow was no longer King in the North.

By itself, that was already a problem they needed to address. However, his little birds had also included the reason for this sudden regime change. Jon Snow was a Targaryen prince, hidden away from the world by his uncle. _I guess the fanatic was right all along,_ he mused, thinking back to his first conversation with Priestess Melisandre in Volantis.

"Do you believe it?" Tyrion answered the question with one of his own.

The eunuch sniffed indignantly, raising his chin. "My little birds haven't failed me yet." His expression softened, as he continued, "I'll admit it's difficult to believe, but the tale makes sense. And there's a witness."

"Howland Reed." Tyrion nodded. "What do you know about the Lord of Greywater Watch?" His own knowledge was rather limited.

"Not much, I'm afraid." Varys seemed almost disappointed with himself, for having been blind to something so important. "My reach in the North doesn't extend far beyond the loudest whispers. However, everyone knows how close he was to Lord Stark. And how they were the only ones to survive the encounter at the Tower of Joy."

"With the Kingsguard, yes." _It's rather obvious in hindsight._ There was little reason for Rhaegar to have sent two of his most trusted knights to guard some tower in the middle of nowhere. _Unless he wanted to protect his heir._ "Still… One witness is the same as no witness." Tyrion had more experience than most with trials.

Varys shook his head. "Deny all you want, but you know as well as I that power resides where men believe it resides. Need I remind you of that riddle?" He added, with the hint of a smile.

He raised his hands in defense. "Please don't." He frowned. "But what's your point?"

"Everyone in the North now believes that Jon Snow is Aegon, last son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark." The eunuch raised his eyebrows. "Whether or not that's the truth is irrelevant."

Tyrion scratched his beard. He was right, there was no denying this. They wouldn't be able to hide from it, even if Lord Reed were to suddenly vanish from mysterious circumstances. _That's no longer an option, if it ever came to that._

"The Queen won't like this." He said, finally.

"No, she won't." Varys nodded gravely. "Our queen is so fond of reminding everyone about her birthright, that I dread what will happen to the man who disabuses her of that notion." He took a deep breath, putting his hands on the folds of his sleeves. "So I ask you again: _should we tell the Queen?_"

Tyrion sighed, going over the possibilities in his mind._ Jon Snow is in danger,_ that much was certain. But would it be preferable to give her time to think about it, or to let her be surprised? He had to admit he was curious about her reaction. They had talked at length about how she couldn't bear children, and that her name would end with her. So at least some small part of her should be happy to discover another Targaryen. _What does she treasure more: her family or the Iron Throne?_

"No." He replied, the same answer he had given the last time he asked. "I want to see how she reacts." He turned to face the eunuch. "Even you must be a little curious, you have to admit."

"Perhaps a little." The man shrugged. "Very well, I'll leave it in your hands. Lady Greyjoy should be arriving soon, as her ships were spotted near Claw Isle."

He nodded. "Then we must ready a proper welcome."

* * *

When the former king disembarked onto the beach, Tyrion couldn't hide his smile. Jon Snow had changed much from the sullen boy he remembered. His lightly bearded face was marred by faded scars, showing hints of past battles. And his dark hair was tied up behind his head, with the sides loose, in a northern fashion. _This dragon is more wolf than the real Starks,_ he mused.

"I could've sworn Lord Stannis left a garrison here to hold the castle." The voice of an older man broke the silence first. He had a grizzled beard and thinning hair. _This must be the onion knight, Ser Davos Seaworth._ The man would probably remember much about Dragonstone from his time serving Stannis Baratheon.

"We found no resistance." He said, walking forward to greet them. "It's been a long time, Jon." He shook their hands.

The young man smiled back. "Last time we saw each other, you were pissing off the edge of the Wall."

"I'm quite proud of that, actually." He scratched his beard, recalling the memory.

"You should be. It's very cold up there." Jon replied, slightly raising his eyebrows. _That's putting it mildly._

He had only worked up the courage to piss off the edge of the world after many cups of ale. Some brothers of the Night's Watch had warned him against it, claiming to have witnessed terrible cases of frostbite. Tyrion had laughed them off as a jest, but after his painful experience, he was ready to believe. _My cock almost froze in my hand._

"Don't remind me." He said, shaking his head. Then he motioned to the beautiful woman standing next to him. "Missandei here is one of the queen's most trusted advisors."

The woman smiled. "Our queen welcomes you to Dragonstone" She said, in a pleasant voice. "She appreciates the efforts you've made on our behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons…" Tyrion noticed how the mood shifted. _Surely he must have expected this?_

"Forgive me, but I'll need to keep my weapons." Jon said, setting his jaw.

Missandei looked at him, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"Jon, I can't let you near the queen with a weapon." Tyrion tried to reason with the man. "Her men would kill me. And you. I don't want to watch you die, especially not after they kill me." He smiled at his own wit. It was a jest, but he glanced at the tall dothraki standing guard with apprehension. _This could be dangerous._

The former king was adamant. "I cannot give away Valyrian Steel, Tyrion."

Hearing this, he finally tried to examine these precious swords. Hanging from his belt were two blades, one longer with a white wolf carved on the pommel, and a smaller with several inlaid rubies. _I can see why he won't part with those. They must be priceless._

"What if I carried them for you?" Tyrion offered. "I'd make sure they stay in the room we've arranged for you and they'd be safe until your audience with the queen is done." It was a good compromise. "You'll just need to trust me." He finished, in a pleading tone.

Jon nodded and gave him the sword belt. _Stubborn northmen._

Missandei resumed her practised smile. "Please, this way." And they started climbing the long stairs up to the castle.

Tyrion could never ignore being a dwarf, but having to make his way up on his short legs, while carrying someone else's swords, made his condition even more evident._ I have to take two steps for every one of theirs,_ he reflected. That had been the story of his life.

"And Lady Greyjoy?" He asked, making conversation. "Is she not joining us?"

Jon had a strange look on his face. "Yara said she was exhausted after…" _Yara?_ That was awfully familiar. He continued, "Well, she was sleeping the last time I saw her." There was a slight shade of red on his cheeks.

Tyrion knew the lady captain had been trying to sleep with Queen Daenerys for a while now, with poor results. _She managed to fuck another dragon._ Apparently, Jon couldn't resist her pirate charms as effectively as his aunt.

"Where are the dragons?" Jon asked, searching the skies. _He's eager to meet the family._

"Drogon and Viserion don't fly as often anymore. Their mother wants to keep them safe." Tyrion replied, sadly.

"So it's true, then? Euron Greyjoy has a dragon?"

He nodded. "Rhaegal." Tyrion remembered his time with the younger dragons in Meereen, when he released them from their chains. The Queen had been worried about the danger they posed, but dragons needed space to grow. "We're working on a plan to get him back, but so long as Euron has that hellhorn it will be difficult to face him. She doesn't want her children to fight each other."

Jon was frowning. "I've read a little about dragons. It's surprising that one would accept a rider without having formed a strong bond first. They're intelligent creatures." Tyrion had read a lot about dragons. He had always been fascinated with the creatures as a child, and he couldn't find enough knowledge to satisfy his hunger.

"True." He nodded. "But I doubt Rhaegal wants Euron as his rider. From what the queen described, when the horn sounded she lost all control and the dragons fell." He had only heard the sound from a distance, and even he would never forget that terrible sound. "My working theory is that the horn can enslave dragons. If I'm right, Rhaegal is bound to obey." _A terrible fate._

Jon's eyebrows rose. "Does it work on people too?" He seemed worried.

"An intriguing question." Tyrion hadn't considered it. "I assume you mean Targaryens?" Jon nodded, so he continued, "It's hard to say for certain, especially since Queen Daenerys is the only one." He gave Jon a pointed look, and the young man avoided his eyes. "I don't think we should risk it, in any case. All the more reason we have to do something about that horn."

* * *

In the throne room of Dragonstone, Queen Daenerys was waiting for them. On the impressive seat molded out of the volcanic rock commonly found in the island, she was a vision of authority. Her silver blonde hair was braided in a slightly different way today, and she was dressed to impress. A chain with three dragon heads was draped over her right shoulder, falling to her left waist.

Missandei walked to the queen's side and listed her titles._ I wonder how many titles I could claim to have?_ He was the Hand of the Queen. And the rightful Lord of Casterly Rock._ Two. Not very impressive._ Then Ser Davos Seaworth said Jon Snow was the Prince of Winterfell. _Well, that makes me feel a little better._

The Queen wasn't impressed. "So you're no longer a king. Who rules the North, then?"

"Sansa Stark has replaced me as Queen. I'm here on her behalf." Jon replied.

She turned to face Varys. "Why wasn't I informed of this?" Her eyes were narrowed.

The eunuch shared a glance with Tyrion, before answering, "My queen, the information I've received from the North was too…" He shifted his eyes to Jon. "It was rather difficult to believe."

She looked slightly confused at first, then her nostrils flared. "Be that as it may, next time you will tell me everything. Allow me to decide what to believe." The man bowed low. She turned to face Jon. "So you will tell me, Prince. What happened in the North?"

The former king took a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself. _Here it comes._ "The northern lords wanted me gone because I'm a Targaryen."

Silence greeted his words. Everyone in the room turned to face the queen, waiting for her reaction. Tyrion held his breath in anticipation, his eyes stinging with the effort of not blinking. _This is the most crucial moment of this war,_ he knew. _Everything rests on how she'll react to this revelation._ Their alliance could grow stronger or they could create a powerful enemy.

Queen Daenerys started laughing.

_Well, that's a reaction,_ he mused, remembering to breathe and blink. Tyrion looked at Varys, who was frowning at Jon, almost weighing the possibilities in his head. _Careful, dear Spider. If you get between two dragons, you're bound to get burned._ Tyrion couldn't imagine ever betraying Daenerys. He liked Jon well enough, but his heart lay with his queen.

The room was still filled with the sounds of her laughter, a loud guffaw that echoed all around the large room. _She needed this._ The queen had been wandering the halls of Dragonstone in a dejected mood, and her gloomy disposition was starting to spread.

After a long while, her mirth faded. "Forgive me, but you don't look like any Targaryen that I've ever seen." Her eyes were still watering, and she rubbed them with the back of her hand. But her face was brightened by a genuine smile.

"I favored my mother, Lyanna Stark." Jon said, without a hint of a smile on his face. "I suppose. I've never met her, but that's what the one living person who knew her has told me." His voice betrayed his insecurity.

The queen stopped smiling.

When she didn't say anything, Tyrion jumped in, "That _one person…_ Would that be Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch?" He asked, hoping for confirmation.

Jon nodded. "Aye. He and my fath-" The young man stopped himself, clearing his throat. "Lord Reed and Lord Stark found my mother in a bed of blood, at the Tower of Joy in the Mountains of Dorne, moments after giving birth to me." His voice grew quieter. "She died shortly after that."

"Then the honorable Lord Eddard Stark claimed you as his own, raising you at Winterfell as his bastard son." Tyrion helped in the explanation. "Very clever. Nobody would ever dare to question the word of such a man."

Varys joined in, "It had always struck me as odd that the kingsguard had been sent to such a remote location." He cast his eyes upon Jon. "It would seem that Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower were protecting you, then."

Tyrion immediately understood his game. _He wants to make the stakes clear. Very well, I'll play along._ Raising his eyebrows, he tried to look surprised. "Wait, does that mean…"

Jon took the bait. "Aye, my parents were married."

Silence reigned over the room again. _It all rests on the Queen._

She slowly rose from her seat, making her way towards Jon. The young man stood his ground, though he seemed a bit unsettled. Tyrion noticed he was awfully still in anticipation, like a wolf waiting for its prey. _But which one is the predator?_

The Queen only stopped when she was almost touching him, less than one foot apart. They were of a similar height, his head standing a bit taller than hers, but when they were so close their eyes were almost level. Her violet were narrowed in observation, while his grey were wide open in expectation. She raised a hand, then quickly pulled it back. His head leaned forward a bit, until he also righted himself.

_An odd pair._ Tyrion had read once that all Targaryens were possessed of a strange charisma. The blood of the dragon held a certain draw, which allowed them to charm everyone around them. Considering how high these two rose, and the number of people following them, that theory was probably correct. _I wonder who will follow whom?_

After what seemed an eternity, the Queen spoke, "Rhaegar?" She whispered the name at her nephew, apparently convinced of what she saw in his face.

Jon nodded.

"What did he name you?" She asked, in a voice so quiet Tyrion almost couldn't hear her words.

"My mother named me Aegon."

Her face fell. She broke eye contact and turned away from Jon, walking towards her throne.

_There it is,_ Tyrion thought, satisfied. He had been curious to see what she valued higher, and now he finally had an answer. _She wants the Iron Throne for herself, not for her family._ He would have to come up with ways to assure her claim without killing Jon, as she would never step aside for him. _Does he even want to rule?_ He briefly wondered, before realising it didn't matter. So long as he had a claim, someone could use him against her.

Queen Daenerys composed herself midway and turned back to face Jon with a forced smile. "You must be tired from your long journey. I'll have baths drawn for you and someone to show you to your rooms. We'll continue this another time."

Jon nodded and turned away. Two tall dothraki flanked him and led him out. Tyrion heard a few whispers from Ser Davos as they walked away, but he couldn't quite make them out. He thought he heard the word _dragonglass_ peppered in the whispered conversation, before the door closed behind them.

* * *

**Alright, the big meeting is done. I liked the way it happened on the show, but I wanted to explore another dynamic. We'll get to the Night King eventually.**

**I borrowed a few lines, but so much has changed that there was no way it would end the same. **

**Next chapter we'll dive into Dany's mind. It's been a while.**

**The date is 06/06/2019**


	25. Headache

**Dany's heart in conflict with itself.**

* * *

**25\. Headache - Daenerys**

Dany tossed and turned in bed, but sleep wouldn't come. After some time staring at the ceiling, she decided to get up and walk. There had been many sleepless nights after Rhaegal was taken from her. She had grown accustomed to wandering the halls of Dragonstone on her own.

This time, it wasn't her child that troubled her mind. _His name is Aegon. My nephew._ Dany's first reaction was disbelief. That man didn't look very much like her brother Viserys, who was the only other Targaryen she had ever seen. _And yet…_

She recalled their first meeting. As she looked at his features up close, Dany couldn't help feeling… _something._ His dark curly hair and piercing grey eyes were clearly gifts from his mother, but the shape of his jaw and the curve of his nose did seem familiar... _No,_ she shook her head, _he's a pretender and nothing else._

If he truly were Rhaegar's son, he would be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Not her. She was only the youngest daughter of King Aerys II, while her oldest brother had been the heir apparent. The Prince of Dragonstone. Any issue of his body would have a better claim than hers. However, he had no means to prove his claim other than the word of a northern lord.

_How many would believe him, though?_ When faced with a choice between her, daughter of the Mad King at the head of an invading army who speaks a foreign tongue, or him, son of the Silver Prince and a daughter of Winterfell, someone who has spent his whole life in Westeros, with family and friends in the North, who would they choose? She knew the answer.

Dany couldn't accept that. She was the last Targaryen. _But you don't have to be,_ a small voice in the back of her mind whispered. _You've always longed for a family, and now that you've found it, your first instinct is to ignore it?_ The voice grew louder. _Is a throne more important than family?_

"Aaah, enough!" She said out loud, bringing a hand to her temple. A headache._ I have too much on my mind._

"Your Grace?" She heard Tyrion's voice. She had been walking for so long without paying attention, that only now she could see they were in the garden. He was sitting on a bench near a tall dark tree. "Did Lady Greyjoy wake you up too?"

"No, I just couldn't sleep." Dany was confused by his question. "But why would she wake you up?"

He hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "Well, it seems that Lady Yara is very fond of our most recent guest." He grinned. "If her screams are any indication, I'd say she's enjoying his stay at Dragonstone."

_She works fast._ "An interesting development." She considered it for a moment. "Could we use that to our advantage?"

"Possibly." He scratched his beard. "A marriage could be useful, but first we'd need to settle the matter of his identity." He looked up at her, tentatively. "As Jon Snow, marrying him to Lady Yara would bind him as an ally. However, as Aegon Targaryen, we'd need to find a better match since he'd be a direct heir to the throne."

She sighed and walked over to him, taking a seat. "You said you knew him before. Do you believe his claim?"

He frowned. "When I first met him at Winterfell, he was a sullen boy, angry at the world for being a bastard. Later at Castle Black, he realized his life hadn't been as terrible as he had imagined." He smiled at the memory. "Even as a bastard, he had siblings who loved him and a father who provided for him. He had been trained in combat by a knight, and had received a lord's education from a maester, while most around him could barely hold a sword or read two words."

"You didn't answer my question." Dany enjoyed learning more about her supposed nephew, but none of that mattered if he was lying.

Tyrion raised his hands in defense. "I was just painting a picture, Your Grace. You have to know a man before you can judge him." He took a deep breath, then continued, "And, yes. I do believe him."

"I was afraid of that." She looked away from him, her eyes finding a strange blue flower in the middle of a circle of daffodils._ That flower won't last long._ "You know what this means, don't you?"

"That his claim is better than yours." She heard his voice reply. There was a sound of shuffling feet, then he was standing in front of her. "I know It can be tempting to disbelieve something simply because you want it to be false, but sometimes the bravest thing we can do is face the truth and deal with the consequences."

"You know very well what the consequences will be." She narrowed her eyes. Her headache was coming back. "I will have yet another contender for the Iron Throne, one that invalidates my own claim." She shook her head, making it hurt worse. "To recognize him is to abandon my birthright."

"Not necessarily." He quickly replied. "There are many ways to remove him from contention." She raised her eyebrows, surprised that he would suggest such a thing. "While keeping him alive, just to be clear."

"How, exactly?" She was curious.

"The first and most obvious option is marriage." He raised a finger. "You would wed him, providing a united Targaryen front."

"Would he agree to that?" She had no problem marrying her own nephew. Her family would often marry brother to sister, so a union between aunt and nephew wouldn't trouble her. _And he is handsome,_ she had to admit.

"Possibly." He frowned, as if considering the possibilities. "He might resist. We could also force him to marry you, if it came to that." He shrugged.

She didn't like the sound of that. "Wait, no. That won't work." She shook her head, remembering a harsh truth. "If he truly is a Targaryen, it's imperative that he marries someone who can give him heirs." _And I can't have children._

"Oh." He faltered for a moment, before continuing, "Well, the first Aegon had two wives…"

"_No._" She won't diminish herself in such a way._ I won't be anyone's second wife._ "What's the other option?"

He coughed, then raised two fingers. "We could agree to a compromise with the Queen in the North. They would remain independent, as long as Jon stays there and promises to relinquish his claim to the Iron Throne. In writing, to be certain."

"What about his children?" If she couldn't have heirs, he would be responsible for furthering the Targaryen dynasty.

"We can work out the details later, but the firstborn would become your heir. Perhaps even have him fostered at King's Landing and learn how to rule."

She liked that, though it wouldn't be easy to convince him to give up his child. "And who would marry him?"

He paused to consider. "There's no rush to decide right now, Your Grace. It would be wise to use this to gain a new ally, if at all possible."

"Interesting." She nodded. "Though, as long as he lives there will always be the possibility that my enemies could use him against me." Dany didn't plan to keep many enemies alive, but it was naive to imagine that everyone would love her forever. "Do you have another suggestion?"

He raised three fingers. "The third and final option is to simply talk to him." She frowned, and he elaborated, "By which I mean, you can befriend him. Keep him close to you. Maybe even charm him enough to make him fall in love with you. That way, he would never consider betraying you. On the contrary, he might become your fiercest supporter." He smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

Dany had to admit this would be the best solution. They wouldn't marry, so nobody could question her authority. And keeping him close would make sure she controlled how people viewed him.

"He would become my heir, then?" She asked, feeling much better now. _My headache is gone._

He nodded. "Yes. Like his father before him, he'd be the Prince of Dragonstone."

* * *

**How convenient that Jon would hold two princely titles. I wonder what that means.**

**At the end of the day, I really wanted to show just how conflicted Dany was. She felt threatened, yet at the same time she was happy to have found another Targaryen. Which is something I think season eight failed to portray accurately.  
**

**The date is 09/06/2019**


	26. Sweet Dreams

**Jon visits Winterfell. **

**Yep, you heard me. Or read me. Whatever. Enjoy. This one is trippy.**

* * *

**26\. Sweet Dreams - Jon**

Jon was walking around the grounds of Winterfell. The night was clear to his eyes, but other than a few guards, there was nobody to see._ She sleeps,_ came the answer to his unasked question. Ghost knew he was worried about Sansa.

_Ghost… I must be warging._ Jon remembered going to sleep, yet he knew this was no dream. Howland Reed had taught him the basics of this strange power, though he couldn't claim to be an expert. It was certainly useful, despite one glaring weakness: without his mind, his body would be vulnerable. _At least when I'm sleeping my body should be safe._

They were at the godswood. The rich smell of pine trees and blue winter roses filled his senses. _Another here,_ the wolf seemed to speak in his mind. Jon didn't know exactly what he meant, but when they approached the Heart Tree there was a familiar scent in the air._ Bran!_ He tried to scream. The boy was seated on a strange chair with wheels, and his eyes were white.

_He flies,_ Ghost explained.

Jon was confused. _Is he a warg too?_

_More,_ his wolf answered.

Bran's eyes shifted back to blue and he blinked, before looking at Ghost. "Hello, Jon."

_He can see me?_ Jon was expecting an answer from the direwolf, but Bran replied, "Yes, I know you're with Ghost now. And no, I can't hear what you're thinking." He spoke in a monotone voice, and his face was expressionless. _What happened to him?_

"I am the Three-eyed Raven." The way he spoke, it seemed he expected that phrase to answer every question. Bran continued, "However, even my powers are limited."

_I don't know what that means._

"I need to learn how to see better. When I have full control of my powers, I will be able to speak to you in your dreams. Until then, this should suffice." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I know you're sleeping at Dragonstone. And that Yara Greyjoy sleeps by your side." Jon was impressed. And embarrassed. _I hope he doesn't look every time._ He continued, "I can see Daenerys Targaryen talking to Tyrion Lannister at Aegon's Garden." Then he opened his eyes. "And I know your true name, Jon. I saw you when you were praying here. I tried to help, but I don't think you heard me."

_I did!_ Jon remembered hearing Bran's voice in the wind, rustling the leaves of the weirwood tree. He had been too confused at the time to pay closer attention, but he did hear a familiar voice.

"I also know your first meeting with the dragon queen didn't go very well. You didn't even mention the dragonglass. Or the Army of the Dead."

_Ugh._ He had heard enough from Davos about his mistake. And as he had told the old knight,_ it wasn't a mistake. She needs to trust me._ It would be easier to convince her about the Night King if she believed he was her family.

Bran continued, "Don't give up. She will resist at first, but deep down she's a very lonely person." That was odd. She was surrounded by so many people. "She needs you, Jon. Just as you need her." He closed his eyes again. "_A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing._"

_But I was never alone,_ Jon considered. He had been raised at Winterfell with brothers and sisters who loved him. Then he had found another family at Castle Black. And even beyond the Wall he had found people he could trust._ Maybe she didn't have my luck._

Bran opened his eyes again. "You'll wake up soon, but there are a few things you should know. No matter what Daenerys says, do not attempt to ride Viserion. It won't work. If she doubts you, tell her _a dragon is not a slave._ Rhaegal is your mount, or he will be once you release him from Euron Greyjoy's influence." He paused to close his eyes once more. "The horn is hidden away in a ship moored at an inlet between the Isle of Tarth and Massey's Hook. There are twelve other ships guarding it." He blinked and stared at them. "You must claim it. With blood."

_Blood?_ Jon didn't like the sound of that. _How do I claim it?_ He wondered.

_Mark it,_ Ghost supplied.

Bran continued talking, "If you're ever confused and you don't know where to go, look for a raven with white eyes." He crooked the corners of his mouth in a tight smile. "I will be there."

_Wake up!_ A faint voice in his ear made him turn around. There was nobody else in the godswood. _Come on, you bastard!_ The voice grew louder, and he recognized the source. _Yara._ Jon took another glance at Bran, who raised a hand and waved at him. _Goodbye, brother._

He opened his eyes to see a worried captain looking at him. Her naked form was on top of him, her legs astride his own, over the furs on his bed. Her hands were locked on his shoulders, gripping tightly.

"Finally!" She huffed, letting him go. "I kept shaking you, but your eyes were all white. What the fuck was that?" She asked, punching him in the chest.

_Ouch! She's stronger than she looks._ "It's a long story." He put a hand over his heart, near the big scar left by Olly. His eyes drifted down, examining all his other scars.

Her expression softened. "Do they still hurt?" Yara asked gently, surprising him.

She had never asked about his scars before, even after so many nights together. They would spend hours exploring each other's bodies, but not many words were shared between them. _I prefer that sweet tongue on my cunt,_ she had said more than once. Jon was just glad to have someone to warm his bed, so he didn't complain. _At least she's not expecting marriage._ She had laughed at him for even suggesting it. _I like your cock, but I also like pussy._ She had said, with a grin on her face. The woman won't be tied down to any man.

"No." He could barely feel anything. _Except the cold._ "Not physically, anyway." He added, remembering the faces of his killers.

Her hands traced each scar in turn, her warm fingers offering some solace against the cold. "So many… These should've killed you."

"They did." He said, quietly.

Yara stared at him in disbelief. "Fuck that." She dismounted and moved to her side of the bed, covering herself with the furs and setting her head on a fluffy pillow. "You don't look dead to me. No dead man could make me cum so hard."

He smiled despite himself. "Granted, I didn't stay dead for long. Melisandre brought me back with some ritual." Davos had only mentioned a few details. _Why did she need to cut my hair?_

"Well, fuck me in the ass…" She put a hand on her forehead, staring at the ceiling with her eyes open wide. "So those red priests really do have magic. When that High Priestess said her god saved us, I just assumed the bitch was lying."

"_High Priestess?_"

"Kinvara." Yara supplied. "We picked her up in Volantis, along with a thousand soldiers. Now she's following the Queen everywhere, saying she's a promised princess or some other crap." She sat up straight, leaning on her pillow. "Well, maybe it's not crap after all."

Jon didn't like the sound of that. _Melisandre burned a child for her god, what will Kinvara ask of Daenerys?_ "Does she have the Queen's confidence?"

"I don't know." Yara shrugged. "Maybe? She did save us in that battle against Euron. If not for that freak wind, our ships would've been destroyed."

He frowned. "Their magic might work, but there's always a cost." He wondered what she did to get that wind. "We can't let them near Daenerys."

"_Daenerys?_" She grinned, turning on her side to face him. "How familiar. So, what do you think of her?"

Jon hesitated, thinking back to their meeting yesterday. "Hard to say. I barely know her." He couldn't deny being drawn to her, especially when she came close to look at his face. With the heat coming off her, the woman was a furnace, blazing even at a distance. _She isn't kissed by fire, she's fire itself._

Yara's grin widened. "In my experience, the best way to get to know someone is by fucking them." Moving closer, she hooked her leg on his and put an arm around his waist. "I tried to get into her bed, but she didn't respond as well as you did." Her eyes widened, as if she had just realised something. "Wait, why don't you try it?"

"Try what?"

"To get her into bed with us." She said, her mouth watering. "We could fuck her together. The woman sure needs to have some fun, or she'll go crazy in this place."

"She's my aunt." Jon couldn't do that. He knew Targaryens had different standards for incest, but he was raised in the North. The Old Gods viewed children of close relations as abominations. _Except cousins,_ for some reason. _Gods can be fickle like that,_ especially when every lord and lady was related in some way. Since they could only marry other lords and ladies, it was hardly surprising. _Yet another reason why the freefolk are wiser._

"Come on…" She snuggled closer, leaning on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. "Don't you want to know what her pussy tastes like?" Her hand dropped from his waist to stroke his cock. "Feel the heat of her sweet nectar on your tongue as you make her scream with pleasure?" She pressed up against him, rubbing herself on his leg. "I know I do." She started kissing his neck.

"Yara…" He tried to protest, but his body reacted with vigor.

She smiled, moving to straddle him. "If it bothers you, let me fuck her." She said, leading his hard member into her opening. "While you fuck me." They moaned together as she impaled herself on him. She rode him hard that morning, climbing the mountain to reach the peak twice, before finally falling down on top of him, their bodies slick with sweat.

"Well?" Breathing hard, Yara looked up at him expectantly

He took a moment to catch his own breath, giving him time to think. _She really wants a taste of the dragon queen._ Jon knew this could cause trouble. But if what Bran said was right, Daenerys needed him. _To fuck her?_ He doubted that. She didn't look like she needed help in that area. He remembered her uncontrolled laughter in the throne room. That had been the laugh of someone who wasn't used to laughing very often. _Maybe Yara's right, and she just needs to have fun._

"I'll think about it." He said, finally.

She seemed happier than ever before. _Maybe she prefers women,_ he considered, as her mouth captured him in a wet kiss.

* * *

**Yep, I really like Yara. She's like a female version of Oberyn Martell. It's a shame the show didn't do more with her.  
**

****On a related note, I noticed I've been neglecting Theon. Most of the stuff I have for him is later on when they go back to Winterfell and see Sansa again, but I'll try to add him in these earlier chapters a bit more.  
****

**And now you understand why I needed to keep Ghost at Winterfell. Jon has an instant window into whatever happens in the North. And with Bran there, they won't need ravens to send messages.**

**The date is 12/06/2019. (I know it might be confusing for American readers, but putting the month before the day just feels wrong to me. Unless it's year/month/day. And that would be even more confusing)**


	27. Not Alone

**Dany tries to charm Jon. But he can also be quite charming himself.  
**

* * *

**27\. Not Alone - Daenerys**

The Great Hall of Dragonstone was carved in the shape of a huge dragon lying on its belly, with the doors set as the mouth of the great beast. So that everyone who entered would feel almost like being swallowed by the creature. It was certainly a great way to intimidate guests, though Dany hoped her most recent guest wouldn't feel intimidated. _At least not too much._

She had invited her supposed nephew to break fast together, just the two of them. _Charm him,_ Tyrion had said. And she was determined to at least try. Dany couldn't imagine it being very difficult, given her previous interactions with men. _Love can be just as useful as fear, if not more so._ Despite the chilly weather, she had chosen to wear a light red silk dress, covered by a thin sable shawl draped around her shoulders.

When he arrived, she rose from her seat. "Good morning." She greeted him, with an easy smile on her face.

"Good morning." Aegon replied slowly, with a frown on his face. _He looks refreshed._ Wearing a simple grey woolen doublet and dark breeches, he seemed wary. _If he truly is my nephew, I'll have to arrange proper clothes for him,_ she considered. _More red and less grey_.

She motioned to the seat on her right. "I figured we should get to know each other a little better." As he walked over and sat down, she followed and took her seat too. "Without any other… distractions."

"Does that mean you believe me?" He asked, bluntly. _This one isn't used to subtlety,_ she noted. _Then I'll have to be blunt as well._ She took a bite of her boiled egg and chewed slowly, to buy some time.

Swallowing, she said, "Before I answer that question, let me ask you another." She stared right into his grey eyes to check for a reaction. "Do you want to sit on the Iron Throne?"

"I didn't even want to be King in the North." He sighed, shaking his head. "Nobody ever asks me what I want, they all just make decisions for me." His voice was bitter, as he took a bite of his own egg.

_Interesting,_ she considered that for a moment. _People chose him to lead them, but they also chose to remove him._ That was both impressive and disappointing. _True power comes when nobody else can choose your fate._ Dany had more experience than most in not having a say about her future. _My own brother sold me._

"Then what do you want?" She asked, with a hint of a smile on her face.

Aegon didn't share her humor. "You didn't answer my first question." He said, narrowing his eyes. _Clever._

"Forgive me. I just wanted to be the first to ask that question." Dany picked up her cup of apple cider and took a sip, waiting for him to submit and answer. _But he didn't._ "I must admit I'm… tempted to believe you." She confessed.

"_Tempted?_" He echoed the word back to her, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes." She licked her lips, the taste of apples still on her mouth. "I've been told you grew up at Winterfell with brothers and sisters who loved you." He nodded, then she continued, "Well, my own childhood was… different. Few are the happy memories I have of my brother. Mostly, I remember his cruelty." _You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?_ He would often ask when she had displeased him.

"I'm sorry." Aegon said, with a pitying look on his face.

Dany shook her head. "Never apologise for something you didn't do. Or people might think you're responsible after all." _Ugh, I sound like an old crone._ She still wasn't sure about him being her nephew, but she was already lecturing him like an aunt would. _We're practically the same age._

"I wasn't apologising." He defended himself. "I was just… Sorry for you. I wish things had been different. For both of us." He finished, taking a swig of his drink.

_Both of us? So his childhood wasn't as perfect as Tyrion had made it seem._

"Thank you for the sentiment." She inclined her head slightly. "But we wouldn't be here if not for our past. If things had happened differently, who knows where we'd be now?"

_Wishing is a waste of time._ As a child, fleeing from city to city with only her brother for company, she had often wished for a better life. She would wish for Robert Baratheon to pardon them, so they could return in peace. She would wish for her brother to treat her better, so she could love him again. She would wish for Khal Drogo to love her, so their nights together wouldn't be so painful. _Then I learned to stop wishing and start doing._

"I suppose you're right." Aegon said thoughtfully, scratching his bearded chin. "It could've been far worse." His voice dropped a tone. "Everything can always be worse." There was a dark shadow in his eyes, which became unfocused as he stared at the food on his plate.

Dany shivered. _Why did I do that?_ She couldn't explain her reaction. To cover up her slip, she reached for her cup. As she sipped the tart cider, her mind was working. The way he spoke, it was as if he knew something… Something terrible. _What isn't he telling me?_

"So you don't want the Iron Throne." She began, slowly. "I'll ask again: what do you want?"

Aegon blinked a few times and stared at her, his grey eyes shining. "Dragonglass." He finally answered.

"_Dragonglass?_" She must have misheard him. _What does that even mean?_

"Aye." He replied quickly, moving his hands about. "It's a mineral. Some call it obsidian, or volcanic glass. This island has a mountain of it."

"And you wish to mine it?" He nodded, and she asked, "Why?"

He took a deep breath and placed both hands on the table, looking far more serious than at any other point in their conversation. "It's one of the only weaknesses of the Army of the Dead."

"Come again?"

"Beyond the Wall, the Army of the Dead is marching south." His voice took on a trained tone, giving her the impression that he had given this speech many times before. "Led by the Night King, the White Walkers can raise the dead corpses of their fallen enemies, turning them into mindless Wights to fight their former allies." He paused to take a breath, then continued, "Only dragonglass and Valyrian Steel can stop them."

She felt that chill again, as her skin prickled. "And you've seen this?"

"Aye." Aegon replied, nodding. "I led a rescue mission to Hardhome and the Night King ambushed us." His eyes became unfocused. "We saved a few thousand, but many more were slaughtered. Only to be raised right back by the Night King, with those staring blue eyes…" His hands balled into fists. "I have to stop him." He added, in a whisper.

Dany didn't know what to say. _Is he mad?_ She knew madness was a family trait, though the man seemed sane enough. Perhaps he saw them. _Or perhaps he simply imagined it._ However, she couldn't call him a liar and still demand his allegiance.

"Well? Can we mine it?" He asked, looking at her with expectation.

_Dragonglass._ He wasn't asking for anything too valuable. She didn't even know Dragonstone had this mineral. _Why not give him what he wants?_ But she needed to see something first. Dany made up her mind, rising from her seat.

"Come with me." She commanded, moving away.

He got up, but didn't follow her. "Wait. Are you going to let us mine the dragonglass?"

"Yes." She replied quickly, her lips curling into a smile. "After you meet my children."

* * *

Dany could almost always tell where Drogon was. _The bond shared between a dragon and their rider is so strong, I can even feel his mind sometimes._ She walked along the high cliffs of the island, climbing and climbing, on and on, until she saw him. Her face broke into a smile as she looked at her greatest child resting on the grass, the black scales and blood red horns a constant source of comfort for her. After Rhaegal was stolen and she couldn't sleep in her bed, she would often come to find Drogon and rest by his side.

Turning her head back, she spotted Aegon climbing up the cliffs behind her. He had stopped on the way to pick up his cloak, a gorgeous piece of white fur with two great red orbs at the clasps. _Now he looks like a prince,_ she conceded, admiring the view.

"That's a lovely cloak." She said, as he came closer. "You should wear it more often."

He seemed uncomfortable with the compliment. "Thank you, Your Grace."_ How formal._ That was the first time he had addressed her as a Queen. "It was a gift from my sister."

_Sister?_ "You mean cousin." She corrected him. _Rhaenys was killed by the Lannisters._

Aegon blinked a few times, bringing a hand to his chin. "Sansa is my sister. Learning my true name doesn't change how I feel about her. Or Arya. Or Bran. Rickon and Robb. They will always be brothers and sisters to me." He took a deep breath, then continued, "Even Lord Stark. When I think of my father, it's his face that floats on my mind, despite knowing that he lied to me all my life. I know he meant to protect me. And I'm grateful for that."

Dany stood there watching him for a while, trying to understand the feeling bubbling in her heart as he spoke. _I'm jealous,_ she realised. She wanted an uncle to love her like a daughter. She wanted cousins who treated her like a sister. She wanted everything he had. _All I had was a brother who hated me for being born._

"Your Grace?" He asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I…" Her voice was hoarse. She swallowed and cleared her throat, then continued, "I'm fine." Turning around, she motioned to Drogon, who opened his eyes. The smouldering red pits glowed with intensity, as her child stared at them. "I've brought you here to see the truth for myself. How Drogon reacts to you should tell me everything I need to know. _Are you ready?_" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Aegon took a deep breath, exhaling with his mouth, then he nodded.

"Let's go." She said, leading him closer. The dragon noticed and unfurled his wings, casting a massive shadow on the ground. _He's either stretching or trying to intimidate,_ she wasn't sure. "Drogon?" Dany raised a hand to greet him, gaining his attention. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." She motioned to the man. "This is Aegon."

She stepped back a few paces to give them some room. Drogon kept his eyes trained on him, while Aegon stared back, red on grey. Her child started moving, his strong legs stretching for a bit, before he stalked closer and closer, then...

_RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWR_

The familiar sound of his loud roar filled her ears. _Intimidation,_ she was sure this time. To his credit, Aegon stood his ground, his beautiful white cloak billowing from the force of the gale coming from the wide open maw. _There's no fear in his eyes,_ she noted. Drogon calmed down and stalked even closer, sniffing the air around the man. Aegon slowly moved his left hand towards the dragon, reaching for the scaly snout._ Brave._ Surprisingly, Drogon seemed to accept his touch, making a sound when they finally made contact. _Is he purring?_ Her heart raced, feeling an abundance of emotion coming from the dragon. _Why are my eyes watering?_ Blinking, she looked at Aegon, who was also teary-eyed.

After a while, Drogon seemed satisfied and backed away. With one last glance at her, he took to the skies. Watching him fly away, Dany felt happier than she could remember feeling, the wide grin on her face impossible to hide.

_I'm not the last Targaryen._

"That was…" Aegon started, breathing heavily. "I… have no words." He finished, looking up at the flying dragon.

"I know. Wait until you ride one." She looked around to search for her other child. "Viserion should be around here somewhere. Perhaps he'll let you become his rider." _Two dragonriders would be better than one._

"No." He said, making her turn to face him. He had a strange expression that she couldn't read, something between apprehension and shock.

"Why not?" She asked, frowning. _He didn't seem afraid with Drogon._ "You could at least try."

"Rhaegal is my mount." Aegon spoke with confidence, staring right into her eyes. "A dragon is not a slave."

_How… Why…_ Stunned, with her mouth agape, she stood there transfixed by his gaze for a few moments, trying to understand the questions running wild in her mind._ It can't be a coincidence._

Dany found her voice eventually, "Rhaegal is gone now." The memory still stung. _My child was in pain, and there was nothing I could do to help._ She had been working with her advisors on plans to get him back, but they didn't seem nearly as concerned as she was. _Nobody understands my loss. I am alone._

"He won't be gone forever, Your Grace." His voice was steady and sure, almost as if he knew something nobody else did. "We'll get him back. I promise."

"_We…?_" She started, in a whisper, before realising something important.

_I'm not alone anymore._

This time, Dany couldn't hold back the tears bursting from her eyes. Jumping into him, she hugged the last living member of her family close, her heart beating fast in her chest. He seemed surprised at first, but his arms slowly closed around her back. Weeping into the white fur on his shoulder, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable for the first time in years.

"Please… Call me Dany."

* * *

**Well that was emotional. **

**I thought it was fun to have Dany only refer to Jon as Aegon in her mind, since it lets us know how much she wants to believe him. Poor girl. I promise her ending will be happier in my version.**

**I haven't marked the official pairing yet, but it's Dany and Jon. Obviously. I just didn't want to make promises before it happens. ****I'll change it when they finally get together. Conversely, I need to come up with a better summary for this story. I'm not good at that.**

**The date is 15/06/2019**


	28. Enemy of my Enemy

**We dive into the mind of Dr. FrankenGregor himself, as he advises his queen. **

**And we finally get to see Cersei! That took a long time, but I couldn't come up with anything too different for her to do until now. I do have some interesting future plans for her, but I won't spoil them here. Enjoy.**

* * *

**28\. Enemy of my Enemy - Qyburn**

Qyburn had little interest in titles. Hand of the Queen, Master of Whispers… _They are simply means to an end._ The pursuit of knowledge was all that consumed his attention. His curiosity about the higher mysteries of life and death was what ultimately had him stripped of his chain at the Citadel in Oldtown. _The grey sheep hate those who don't follow orders._

Sitting at his desk in the Tower of the Hand, Qyburn mulled over the letter from Harrenhal. Euron Greyjoy was claiming the title of King of the Seven Kingdoms and demanding a marriage to Cersei Lannister, who would share the title of Queen with Daenerys Targaryen when they both became his wives. _The man doesn't lack for ambition._ He also claimed to hold Ser Jaime Lannister hostage, threatening to kill him unless she replied within a week.

_She won't like this._

He had spent enough time with his Queen to reasonably predict her behavior in most, if not all situations. _Disbelief will be followed by anger, then by copious amounts of alcohol, then finally by acceptance._ The gambit with Lord Randyll Tarly would have changed everything, but now that Euron Greyjoy had betrayed them there was little doubt as to who would win this war. Without a standing army, without dragons and without allies… _Our cause is doomed. Unless I convince her…_

With this mentality, he walked over to his Queen's apartments. The Red Keep was filled with cats, some of which he spotted on the way, darting and weaving along. _At least they keep the rats away._ Qyburn had several experiments in progress down at the dungeon, many that would attract all manner of vermin to feast on the necrotic tissue.

Ellaria Sand was one of them. Having been kept alive to watch her daughter Tyene die, now she herself lay rotting there. It was remarkable to observe precisely how the human body behaved under so much stress. He visited her frequently, taking notes to make sure he wouldn't miss any development, and now he had enough material to write an entire book. _But why would I share knowledge? Let them figure it out for themselves._

Eventually, he reached his destination. Standing at the door was his greatest achievement, Ser Gregor Clegane. Manticore venom was usually deadly and killed quickly, but Oberyn Martell had used a delaying agent to prolong his enemy's suffering. _Now he suffers forever._ Qyburn had managed to replace his blood entirely, a grueling and painful process which had turned the man into something… _more._ He wasn't alive, in the strictest sense of the word, but he was even stronger now. _No blade shall kill him._

"Stand aside, Ser Gregor." He spoke calmly.

The great knight did as he was told. _The brain still works in limited capacity._

His Queen was standing near an open window, looking out at the city she ruled. Dressed in dark red, with golden metallic shoulder pads, she seemed ready for both court and war. A young woman with pale blonde hair was standing by her side, holding a pitcher of wine. _Joy Hill._ Qyburn had his misgivings about the girl being allowed such confidence, but both the queen and Ser Jaime held a deep affection for her. _She's the only daughter of their lost uncle Gerion._

He cleared his throat, gaining their attention. "A raven has arrived from Harrenhal, Your Grace."

"It must be from Jaime." She picked up the parchment and started reading, her features growing darker and darker as she reached the end. "Do you know if this is true?" She asked, crushing the paper in her hands.

He nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. There have been several reports that Euron Greyjoy has taken up residence at Harrenhal with his dragon."

_The Green Death,_ as survivors had referred to the beast. Qyburn had only seen the creature once before, when the pirate came to boast about his victory against the dragon queen. _It's a shame I couldn't get closer._ He had been working on crafting weapons designed to kill them, but without examining their scales up close, he had to rely on second-hand accounts written hundreds of years ago.

Qyburn doubted any of those old fools had even come close to a dragon._ Except for Septon Barth,_ he admitted. Though it was difficult to find, _Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History_ was probably the best account on dragons that anyone would ever write. He had only read a few fragments of the text, which were enough to greatly impress him. _Death comes out of a dragon's mouth, but it does not go in that way,_ said one passage, dispelling the common belief that their gullets were vulnerable.

"Still doesn't mean he has Jaime." His Queen remained unmoved. "We know he's a traitor now, and it's not much of a leap from that to a liar. There will be no negotiation."

He hesitated, thinking of how best to approach a difficult topic. _She won't like to hear it._ "Your Grace, while he might not hold Ser Jaime captive, there's little doubt that he burned thousands of Lannister soldiers."

"Along with even more foreigners from the dragon queen's army." She countered, moving to sit at her desk. "The traitor mentioned that in his letter too. _Harrenhal is filled with corpses of dothraki and their horses,_ he wrote."

Qyburn nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. And soldiers from Dorne and the Reach as well, but what I meant to say is that there's no one left to defend the capital." He said, patiently. "Reports from Dragonstone say the dragon queen still has a considerable force waiting to be deployed. At least twenty thousand strong. And two dragons."

_Surely she can't be so blind as to deny the truth when it stares her in the face?_ He wondered. If their plan had worked, it would be a different matter entirely. With Lord Tarly and the Reach soldiers, plus Euron and his dragon, they would have been in a far better position. _Now there are two enemies, and they both have dragons._

The Queen pursed her lips. "Have you sent word to the Iron Bank? Can we expect the Golden Company's support?"

"Sadly, the Iron Bank refuses to help while the crown remains in debt, Your Grace." He had exchanged a few letters with the Braavosi known as Tycho Nestoris, who represented the interests of the bankers in Westeros, and the man had been resolute in his conviction to receive due payment. "I'm afraid we won't see the Golden Company anytime soon."

"That's disappointing. I wanted to see those elephants." She said, frowning. _So did I,_ he thought. Having only read about the great beasts, Qyburn would relish the opportunity to study one up close. His Queen continued, "And what of Dorne? Have you managed to convince the Daynes?"

He shook his head. "Lady Allyria refused, claiming irreconcilable differences." The acting Lady of Starfall had become the main representative of the Houses that had refused to follow Ellaria Sand after the murder of Doran Martell and his son. _It was a long shot,_ he admitted, but according to the latest information they counted no less than fifteen thousand spears among them.

"Very well. We are alone and friendless." She grabbed a glass and raised it, waiting for her cupbearer to fill it with red wine. The girl moved quickly and quietly, filling the glass. "But I still hold the Iron Throne. I still hold the city. If the traitor pirate or the dragon queen want to take what is mine, they'll have to fight for it." His Queen finished, taking a generous swig of wine.

Qyburn nodded. "Of course, Your Grace." _It won't be a very long fight._ He had to make her see reason, before it was too late. "If the dragons come flying, the City Watch can use scorpions to take them down." He said, pretending confidence. His misgivings about the efficacy of such weapons would only vanish after a test. _Untested is the same as unfinished._

"That's right." She replied, taking another sip of wine. "We have no reason to fear the beasts anymore."

"And if the dragon queen's remaining soldiers storm the city, there's the wildfire." He continued, still trying to sound confident._ I have to wait for the right moment._

A wicked smile formed on her lips. "Let's see how well she rules from her throne of ashes. I'd love to see the look on her face then."

_There it is._ "Unfortunately, it's unlikely she would let any of us live after that, Your Grace." He sighed, before continuing, "We won't be able to see anything if we're dead."

His Queen paused in her drinking, the wine glass hanging in the air, as she considered his words. After a few seconds, she said, "Perhaps we should reconsider negotiations with the traitor." Her voice was bitter, and her mouth moved as if she was trying to swallow something unpleasant. "All he wants is my hand in marriage. It seems a small price to pay for a dragon. _And Jaime._" She added, as an afterthought.

"Wise, Your Grace." He said, knowing she liked to hear compliments on her intelligence. "However, if you're open to marriage I believe there is a far better prospect."_ Proceed carefully,_ he steeled himself._ She won't like it at first, but it's the best option._

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? Who?"

"Aegon Targaryen."

His Queen huffed. "Don't tell me you believe those wild rumors?" She asked, voice dripping with amusement. "That Eddard Stark's bastard was a Targaryen prince all along, hidden away from the world for his safety? The very notion is preposterous."

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Your Grace." He insisted, keeping his voice even. "Only what the people believe. The tale makes sense. Everyone in the North already believes it, and word from Dragonstone is that even the dragon queen herself believes it too. How long until the rest of the realm buys into that notion?"

She hesitated, seeming to gather her thoughts. "Even if the tale is true, what would I stand to gain from that marriage?" _A good question,_ which he was ready to answer, but she continued, "He's no longer a king, since that murderous wolf bitch took the crown from him. This Jon Snow, or Aegon Targaryen, or whatever else he wants to be called, can't offer me anything useful."

"He can offer his name, Your Grace." Qyburn tried not to sound too condescending. _It's quite simple, really._ "The dragon queen might claim to be the rightful heir, but while Aegon lives everyone will know his claim is better."

"Interesting." His Queen said, moving her wine glass in a circle. "But he would never accept it. If he's close to that red-haired whore, she must have poisoned his ear with lies and fables about me. No one who was raised by Starks would ever dare to trust a Lannister again."

He had considered that. "The offer wouldn't go to him, but to Daenerys Targaryen."

"_Excuse me?_" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Qyburn was confident this was the best way to ensure survival. "Promise you will step aside peacefully, in exchange for her nephew."

He had considered this situation from every angle, and there was little doubt in his mind that the dragon queen would be victorious. Euron Greyjoy was a madman, whose ambition would prove to be his own ruin. That would leave the two queens to fight each other. And only one of them had dragons. _When she's done, there won't be anything left but rubble._

His Queen didn't seem very pleased. "And why would I do that? I'm the queen now. If I accept this arrangement, I'd become… what? A princess? No, even less than that. The wife of a prince." She shook her head vigorously, her voice growing higher with each word. "My lord father always said that only a fool relinquished power once they had it. And I am no fool."

_You will be a dead fool,_ he was tempted to say. Qyburn liked the woman only as far as she allowed him to pursue his experiments unfettered. His loyalty stemmed from that, and that alone. However, blind loyalty wasn't something he was willing to give. To anyone. Though he admitted to having a certain curiosity about the mysteries of death, _I'm not that eager to find out for myself._

"It would only be temporary, Your Grace." He tried to explain his reasoning. "The dragon queen has many enemies who would rather see her dead. Her dragons are a menace to all. Perhaps the illusion of safety could cause her to lower her guard, and when she dies, the throne would pass to Aegon." Qyburn allowed himself a tight smile. "And you would rule again, without any further bloodshed."

Her eyes lit up for a moment, before she narrowed them again. "You mean I would rule through him."

"If an... _accident_ can kill one dragon, it can also kill another, Your Grace."

She seemed to be thinking hard about his suggestion, as her eyes became unfocused for a long time. Eventually, she said, "Before anything else, we have to deal with Euron Greyjoy first. How do you propose we do that?"

"Considering his demands, this seems a perfect opportunity to work together with the dragon queen." Qyburn replied, quickly. "Perhaps we could fool him into believing both of you have accepted his offer."

His Queen nodded. "Yes, that could work. And it would also fool the dragon bitch into believing we're allies." She took yet another sip of wine. "_The enemy of my enemy is only a friend until I can find a quiet way to dispose of them,_ as father used to say."

_The woman loves quoting her father._ Qyburn had only seen Lord Tywin Lannister from a distance before the man died. However, after spending so much time with his daughter, it was as if he was a constant presence, hovering just over her shoulder to whisper his words and watch her trying to impress him.

"Shall I write to Dragonstone, Your Grace?"

* * *

**Qyburn is a creepy POV, worse than Randyll in a way. I had originally intended to show Ellaria's current state of decay, but I wouldn't want to read that. It's gross, trust me. **

****I couldn't resist the elephant joke. The Golden Company also turned out to be a joke in the end, so I'm not sure if I'll bother with them. Possibly. I'll have to think about it.****

**Anyway, this Cersei/Jon wedding is an idea that came to me in a dream once. And I loved it, because it creates so much conflict with everyone (Sansa, Dany, Tyrion, Jaime… it's just too delicious to pass up). Sure, if Cersei were in a better position she would never accept it, but as things stand now she's desperate enough to consider. **

**Jon's reaction will come later. Will he accept? Stay tuned. But the answer is yes. Spoiler alert.**

**The date is 19/06/2019**


	29. The Prince of Dragonstone

**Dany names Jon as her heir. And everybody has some fun for one night.**

**I prefer posting on Saturdays/Sundays and Wednesdays/Thursdays, but I'll be busy for a couple of days, so I decided to get this one out sooner.**

**Enjoy my longest chapter yet.**

* * *

**29\. The Prince of Dragonstone - Tyrion**

The arrival of Jon Snow at Dragonstone had changed the Queen's mood. _Considerably._ Where before, Tyrion would catch her wandering the halls alone with a melancholy cloud hovering over her head, now it was almost impossible to see her alone anywhere. She would seek out the company of whoever came close, to engage them in polite conversation, or to simply walk with them, sharing a pleasant smile. In all their time together since the fighting pits of Meereen, he couldn't remember seeing the woman happier.

_What a difference one nephew makes._ Tyrion had advised her to charm the man, but he hadn't considered the opposite effect. Whatever had happened between the two, it was clear she at least was quite taken by Jon. _Or Aegon,_ as she liked to call him. So when she announced a feast only a few days after his arrival, he wasn't surprised.

"Are you sure that's wise, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked, a few hours before the banquet, while they were walking in the kitchens. The household staff was busy, servants coming and going, each with their hands full. "Our food stocks won't last very long if we waste them like this."

The Queen waved a hand. "I'd hardly consider it a waste. When I announce Aegon as my heir, it should be a celebration. We'll make sure the entire realm knows that House Targaryen has returned." She said, voice filled with emotion, as they continued walking. "Besides, it's your idea. You wanted me to get along with him, so that's what I plan on doing."

"Well, I can't argue with myself." Tyrion knew there was no convincing her. _She wants to impress him._ "I guess it's a good way to lure other Houses for marriage proposals. You're both available for betrothals, and when the lords and ladies of Westeros learn that, we'll be sure to find new allies for the war effort."

_Everyone wants to join the royal family,_ he knew. _Just like father, all those years ago._ Tyrion remembered how badly Lord Tywin Lannister had wanted his daughter to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. _So did she._ Whenever young Cersei talked about the Silver Prince, his sweet sister would gush and go on and on about how beautiful their children would be. _Besides Jaime, he was the only other man she loved._ And considering her love of Jaime was really an expression of her love for herself, _just like her children,_ he noted, Rhaegar might be the only man she ever truly loved.

His Queen hesitated, pausing in her tracks for a moment. "Honestly, I just want to forget about this war for a day. Not even a full day… Just for one night." She turned to face him, her expression softened. "I think we could all use the distraction."

Tyrion couldn't deny that. Months ago, when they were leaving Meereen, he had assumed the war would be over in a few weeks. They had thousands of Dothraki, Unsullied, Dornish and Reach soldiers. _How could such a massive army lose?_ Euron Greyjoy's blasted horn had changed everything. _If this goes on for much longer, she might decide to ride her dragons to King's Landing and end it once and for all._ A distraction was a good idea.

"I daresay you're right." He said, giving her a smile. "Let's have some fun."

* * *

The Great Hall of Dragonstone seemed smaller when it was filled with people. Queen Daenerys had arranged for large tables to be set up along the sides, each with several seats available, yet still offering ample room for movement in the middle. _Shame we couldn't get a singer._ With his size, Tyrion wasn't much for dancing, but he was fond of watching women get hot, sweaty and excited. _Dancing is like sex, only with more work involved._

Another smaller table was set up for the Queen and her closest advisors, higher up, in a way to allow them vision of the entire room. She was seated at the middle, with Jon Snow to her right and Missandei to her left. Tyrion glanced around, noticing the absence of Varys, who hadn't been seen for hours. _Where did he go?_ The eunuch wasn't one to miss such an opportunity to observe people at their most vulnerable level of drunkenness. _Wine can spill any man's secrets._

Standing up, the Queen began her speech, "Dragonstone is my family's ancestral seat. Long before Aegon the Conqueror brought the Seven Kingdoms to heel, this island was all House Targaryen had." She paused, seeming to collect her thoughts, then continued, "Though I have no memory of it, I was born here. Dragonstone should be my home. But it didn't feel like home when I arrived." Her eyes became unfocused, staring at the distance. "It was cold, dark and empty…"

She blinked, shaking her head. After a deep breath, she continued with a smile on her face, "However, when my nephew arrived, I realised something. Home isn't just a place." She put an arm on Jon's shoulder. "With Aegon here, Dragonstone changed before my eyes. It was brighter, warmer and… Perhaps all it needed was its Prince. As I need mine." She turned to face Jon, pulling him up to stand by her side. "Aegon Targaryen, I name you my heir, the Prince of Dragonstone. Do you accept?" She asked him, her violet eyes shining.

_He can't say no to that,_ Tyrion thought, figuring that was her plan all along. Had they asked him in private, there was always the chance he could deny, or try to negotiate something in exchange. _With everyone watching, only a fool would refuse such an offer._

"I…" Jon opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come. He didn't blink for a long time, staring into her eyes. She smiled at him, her eyebrows high on her forehead, her head slowly moving up and down, almost trying to convince him without words. Eventually, the young man found his voice, "I'd be honored, Your G-" His face broke into a smile of his own. "Dany. Thank you."

She kissed him on the cheek, then turned to face everyone, picking up her glass of wine. "_To the Prince of Dragonstone!_" The Queen cheered, raising her glass.

Tyrion raised his own glass and watched as the Great Hall erupted into uproarious applause, some people banging their feet and howling like wolves. _Appropriate,_ he mused, thinking of how they would refer to Jon Snow now. _The Hidden Dragon? The Winged Wolf?_ Tyrion couldn't deny the young man's story had all the elements of a great song. _And his tale is far from over._

Glancing around the room, as everyone relaxed and started mingling, he noticed how his Queen had been right all along. _They needed this too._ Lord Paxter Redwyne seemed to be drunk already, his nose a bright red color, a wine glass on his hand and a large grin on his face, as he tried to grope a serving woman. _Ironic that the Arbor Lord can't hold his liquor._ On the other side of the room, he spotted Yara Greyjoy talking to Nymeria Sand, the captain leaning close and whispering in her ear, but the bastard girl didn't seem to like what she was hearing, for her head kept shaking from side to side, and a scowl marred her features.

"You scared me, nephew." He heard Queen Daenerys speaking to Jon. "For a moment there, I thought you'd refuse my offer."

Jon hesitated, before replying, "I suppose it took me a while to understand the consequences."

"Which consequences would those be?" She asked, innocently taking a sip of her wine. _There's nothing innocent about her._ Tyrion was sure she knew exactly what she was doing. _At least Jon knows it too._

The young man grimaced. "Accepting to become your heir means accepting you as my Queen. As I'm sure you know, Dany." He raised his wine glass towards her and drained it in one gulp. _He sounds bitter._

"I don't see the problem." She shrugged, her lips curling into a smile. "You said it yourself you didn't want the Iron Throne. And I doubt you want Cersei as your queen."

Jon refilled his glass. "Sansa might have a problem. Before I left, she had named me Prince of Winterfell."

_That's right, Sansa is Queen in the North._ With all the distractions, Tyrion hadn't considered how to deal with that development. Jon had arrived as his cousin's representative, but the more time he spent on Dragonstone, the closer his bond with his aunt became. _Both Queens want the same Prince._ Tyrion briefly wondered exactly how close Jon's relationship with Sansa was, before shaking his head. _Not everyone is like Jaime and Cersei._ Then he paused. _But he is a Targaryen…_

"As someone who collects titles, let me tell you there's nothing wrong with adding a few more to your name, Aegon." She said, raising her eyebrows. "Besides, didn't the North take your crown because of that name?"

Jon's face darkened, and he fell silent, taking another swig of wine.

"Forgive me." She apologised, looking worried, her voice dropping to a quieter tone. "I didn't mean to offend." Her hand reached for his, holding on. "I wasn't lying before, you know. I'm glad you're here. Before you came, I could barely sleep in my own bed, wandering the halls alone at night, looking for… I don't even know what." She sighed, shaking her head.

Jon's expression softened. "You have trouble sleeping?"

She nodded. "Sometimes I have… too much on my mind."

"I used to have a similar problem." He confessed, nodding back. "Until I found someone to share my bed."

_Bold move,_ Tyrion thought._ Perhaps the pirate captain has rubbed off on him._

The Queen's eyes opened wide. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" She asked, her face breaking into a grin. "It's certainly an interesting suggestion, I'll admit."

As the Prince stammered a response, Tyrion rose from his own seat. _I think that's enough listening in. Time to find my own fun._ He grabbed a glass of wine and made his way down, sipping as he went.

Walking along the tables, he spotted Missandei smiling beside Grey Worm. She was offering him a drink, while his attention remained focused on her lips. _She can't hold her liquor,_ Tyrion knew. Back in Meereen, her mood had shifted after a single taste. _Such a beautiful woman…_ But her heart belonged to the Unsullied general. _I suppose they can still have fun with their tongues,_ he mused, thinking of how terrible it would be to have his cock removed.

_What's the difference?_ He thought bitterly,_ I'm barely using it these days._

"This isn't the North, Ser." He overheard a familiar female voice. Turning towards it, Tyrion saw High Priestess Kinvara talking to Ser Davos Seaworth, the knight looking rather upset about something. "Whatever threats you and the Prince have made, she didn't break the terms. Not yet, at least." The woman sounded confident, probably due to the two muscular Fiery Hand soldiers flanking her.

The man seemed unconvinced. "She burned a little girl!" He spat, anger clear on his face. "It doesn't matter where she is, I'll never forgive her for that."

_Who is he talking about?_ Tyrion had no idea. His queen had mentioned how the High Priestess conjured the wind that had saved them against Euron, but it was a man who had burned, not a little girl. _Still a terrible sacrifice._ Given their options at the time, the queen had made the right choice. _Well, not right, but…_

"Vengeance won't bring the child back." Kinvara replied, calmly. "Priestess Melisandre has told me everything she did for Stannis Baratheon. She was mistaken. However, following the pretender led her to Castle Black in time to bring back your Prince." She smiled, as if savoring the irony. "Everything happens according to the Lord's plan. Even your very presence here now. We are all merely puppets to His grand design." Her voice took on a fervent tone, eyes bright with intensity.

Ser Davos shook his head and stormed off. _Someone won't have much fun tonight._

"Oi, Lannister!" A female voice called. He turned to see Yara Greyjoy waving him over. She was sitting next to her brother, in a quieter corner of the room.

As Tyrion moved closer, the captain continued, "You're good with words, so talk some sense into this fool." She nodded at Theon, who rolled his eyes. "This is probably the last night of fun we're likely to get in a long while, and he's just sitting here moping like a wet dog. Get up, grab yourself a woman and-"

"You know damn well I can't have that kind of fun anymore." Her brother interrupted, giving her a shove. "Not after…"

_So that's what Ramsay did to him._ Tyrion had seen most of the outwardly signs of torture, though he had never bothered to ask about it. _That's cruel indeed._ Broken bones heal, scars fade with time, and even missing teeth weren't as bad as having your very manhood cut off. _Especially when lords and ladies are valued by their ability to produce heirs._

Tyrion cleared his throat, taking a seat next to the man. "Well, you should take a look at those two." He used his thumb to point back at Grey Worm and Missandei. Both Greyjoys turned to look, and he continued, "If Unsullied can find love, why not you?"

"That Missandei…" Yara licked her lips, eyes narrowing. "I doubt anyone can compare to the Queen, but she comes pretty close. And I'd love to be close when she comes."

He grinned._ The woman could be witty, when it pleased her._ "Well, she's taken. Unlike Nymeria Sand." Tyrion glanced at the Dornish bastard, still standing alone with a sad expression on her face. "I saw you two talking before."

The captain shook her head, waving a hand as if swatting a fly from her face. "Yeah, but she doesn't fancy women. A shame too, with that body."

"Now that's surprising." Tyrion said, his eyebrows high.

"_I know!_" Yara said, her voice a bit higher than usual. "You'd think those Sand Snakes would be licking each other every night, given what we hear about Dorne." She took a swig of her drink, spilling a bit down her chin.

He watched her for a while, then voiced his thoughts, "And why are you so desperate to find a woman? You seemed quite satisfied with our new Prince. Is he not enough for you?" _That would explain why Jon tried to bed the Queen,_ he conceded. _Perhaps they grew tired of each other._

"No man will ever be enough for me." She replied, with a crooked grin. Then she put a hand on her chin, seeming to think harder about the question. "But if I had to choose… I probably couldn't find a better one."

Theon spoke up, "You should be careful with him, Yara. Jon was always very serious about women. I remember taking him and Robb to a brothel once, when we were younger, and he could barely look at the girls working there. But I made sure they both had a nice girl for their first time. Only much later did Ros reveal to me that he hadn't fucked her at all, and just paid her to pretend he did." He paused to take a drink, then continued, "If he's with you now, it's probably because he feels something for you. Don't take that for granted."

_Impressive._ Tyrion knew they had grown up together at Winterfell, but he didn't expect that relationship to be anything beyond sheer animosity. _Hate and love are two sides of the same coin._ His own hatred for Cersei didn't prevent him from knowing a great deal about her._ I might know her better than anyone else._

Yara frowned, her eyes unfocused, clearly affected by her brother's words. After a short while, she punched him on the shoulder. "I'm your sister, you dick! Why are you so worried for him?" She asked, with a scowl on her face. "You should be worried for me."

"I can be worried for both of you." Theon said, rubbing his shoulder. "Besides, I know you can handle yourself. I'm not so sure about him."

She huffed. "Trust me, he can handle himself just fine. And he knows I don't want to get married or have children or any of that crap. He's fine with it. We're just having fun."

"Still… You can't have fun forever, sister." Theon insisted, his voice gaining a hidden strength. "You'll have to get married and have children eventually. Unless you want Euron's bastards to rule the Iron Islands."

Tyrion tried to help. "Perhaps you could do both." He said, making them turn to face him. "I mean marry and still have fun. Jon seems… _willing_ to allow others to join your bed. At least that's what it looked like when he was talking to the Queen earlier."

Yara's eyes shone, her lips breaking apart to reveal a wide smile. "So he was serious… I thought he was just humoring me. But that bastard will never be able to convince her on his own." She stood up, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Alright, boys, time to close the deal. Wish me luck."

Watching her walk away to try and get both Targaryens into the same meat pie, Tyrion felt the sting of jealousy. Lately, his most faithful companion in cold nights had been his hand. _Gods, I need a woman._

"Well, I think I'll take a page out of her book and live a little." He said, picking up another glass in addition to his own and filling them with wine. After both were filled, he turned to Theon. "You should try it too, you know. The night is still young, and who knows when we'll get this opportunity again?" With a pat on his back, Tyrion stood up, grabbed his two wine glasses and left.

His feet led him to Nymeria Sand. As his eyes devoured her up close, Tyrion was struck by her beauty. The woman's slim and slender form leaned against the wall, her straight black hair bound in a braid, which fell to the front of her breasts. She was wearing a loose fitting lilac robe that left much of her pale skin exposed.

"If that's for me, save it." She said, pointing at the wine glasses in his hands. "I'm not in the mood."

He feigned surprise. "For you? How presumptuous. I'll have you know that my thirst knows no bounds." Taking a sip of both cups, he continued, "They're mine, thank you very much. And I don't intend to share."

"Really?" Frowning, Nymeria asked, "Then why did you come here?"

Tyrion took another sip, before replying, "Merely to satisfy my curiosity. I must ask why you refused to join Lady Yara and Prince Aegon in what would probably be a memorable session of vigorous exercise. In bed." He added, grinning.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not attracted to her. Or him, for that matter."

He almost spit the wine in his mouth. _A poor excuse for anyone with eyes._ Swallowing, he said, "Then my lady must be blind. Just look at him." Turning to the high table, he saw Yara whispering in the Queen's ears while Jon looked on uncomfortable. "I'd say every woman in this room would love a taste of our new Prince. Many men too, I'd wager."

Her eyes followed his, but her expression remained unmoved. "He's too pretty. If not for that weak beard, you could almost mistake him for a woman. And that doesn't do much for me."

_Interesting. Time to make my move._ "Well, nobody has ever called me pretty before… And there are plenty of things I can do for you." He said, emboldened by the wine.

Nymeria's lips curled into a smile. "I don't doubt that…" She said, looking him over. Then she shook her head. "But I hate you. Maybe not you specifically, but your family. The day I take a Lannister into my bed is the day I give up the anger. And anger is all I have now." Her expression hardened again.

_I won't give up that easily._ "So you've never fucked in anger?" Tyrion asked, without waiting for a reply. "I have, and let me tell you it's a rush. When you don't care about the person next to you, you can truly focus on yourself and reach peaks of pleasure you've never thought possible before."

Her expression softened, as she seemed to consider his words. "Really?"

"Yes." He answered, nodding. "You can fuck me and still hate me afterwards. In fact, the anger will only make it easier to find your release. Use me, abuse me, and toss me aside." Grinning, he offered her a wine glass.

Nymeria hesitated for a moment, before grabbing it and draining its contents in a single gulp. Tossing it aside, she reached for his arm. "Let's go." She said, leading him away.

As they tried to leave the Great Hall, Varys was just entering. "Lord Tyrion, Lady Nymeria." The eunuch greeted them, looking more concerned than usual. "Have you seen the Queen?"

"Of course, she's right over…" Tyrion started, glancing at the high table, but it was empty. _I guess Yara got her wish,_ he mused, grinning. _Jon is a lucky man._ "Is this urgent?" He asked, unwilling to disturb their merriment.

Varys nodded gravely. "Yes. Very much so. I have to warn her about-"

"No." Tyrion interrupted the man. The Spider tried to argue, but he raised a hand. "Varys, whatever news you wish to discuss is going to have to wait until tomorrow." He glanced at Nymeria, afraid the woman might reconsider her decision. "We all deserve at least one night of fun. The Queen most of all."

The eunuch shook his head. "Tyrion, you don't understand how-"

"_No!_" He interrupted again, standing his ground. _What could be so important?_ "Promise me you'll wait until tomorrow." Tyrion demanded, staring daggers at the man.

Closing his eyes, Varys took a deep breath, then said, "Fine. Tomorrow. But on your head be it." And he walked away.

"That was strange…" Nymeria offered, watching him go. "I wonder what was so important?"

Tyrion sighed. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." Taking her hand, he grinned and said, "For tonight, we have other plans."

* * *

**Wow, that was quite a bit longer than I had planned. That's the problem when you add too many characters into a scene. Having to mention everyone was a pain, yet I enjoyed it more than I expected. Especially the Greyjoys, that was pretty fun to write. **

**Tyrion and Nymeria sure feels awkward, but Tyrion had been horny for a while now, and Nymeria was just moping around, so why not? Sex doesn't always have to equal love.**

**I didn't show their sex scene because it's not relevant to the plot. It might not feel that way, but every sex scene I've written has some plot relevance (yes, even Alys - just wait for it). Lemons can be fun, yet they also take up a lot of time and effort which could be used elsewhere.**

**As a heads up, Dany/Jon/Yara is EXTREMELY relevant to the plot. So next chapter should be fun.**

**The date is 21/06/2019**


	30. What You Wanted

**What you want isn't always what you need. **

**Warning: Explicit content. I wasn't going to add these anymore, since it's M rated (you should expect some titillation), but this time I went a little overboard. I still think it's tastefully done, but your mileage may vary._  
_**

**Conversely, I found writing sex scenes from a female POV much more enjoyable than the male counterpart. I'll keep that in mind for future chapters.**

**Unrelated note: I'll post the next chapter on Thursday, so I can return to a regular schedule.**

* * *

**30\. What You Wanted - Daenerys**

Dany felt tight and strong muscles under her right arm, while her left was being pressured by something heavy. _What… _Dazed, and slowly opening her eyes, she saw a mess of dark curly hair in front of her. _Aegon._ She felt her face break into a smile. He was sleeping soundly, his chest moving in rhythm with his measured breaths. One of her arms was draped around him in a hug, her hand over his scarred chest, while another arm lay under his resting head. _We fit together perfectly. _They were close enough for her nipples to press up against his muscled back, her head almost on the crook of his neck.

_So that wasn't a dream…_

She recalled the previous night. After Aegon had made an off-hand comment about sleeping better with someone else, she figured it was an invitation to share his bed. Then he awkwardly tried to explain his reasoning without much success, until Yara arrived and made things clearer. _They have an interesting relationship_.

_It was certainly fun,_ she had to admit. Yara seemed very enthusiastic, taking charge and leading both of them through the motions. _Her tongue works miracles._ Dany remembered reaching her climax two times with the captain's mouth between her legs, while Aegon pounded the woman from behind in a steady flow, which only seemed to increase when their eyes met. His glistening chest had made her mouth water, and she longed to be in Yara's place, having him invade her depths.

_But he never did, _she thought bitterly.

Aegon had taken Yara in many ways during their lovemaking, yet Dany had only felt the pleasure of the man's tongue. _He's quite good too._ She remembered coming undone over his mouth, feeling his hands grip the inside of her thighs for support, while Yara was busy riding him and stealing kisses from her lips, or feasting on her breasts, tongue still wet with her pleasure. Watching the woman reach her own peak and shake uncontrollably so many times had made Dany long for Aegon to give her the same attention.

_But he never did._

With these memories on her mind, her body reacted. Feeling the heat between her legs, she started moving her hand lower and lower on his scarred chest, slowly passing over his rippled stomach and…

_I just want to… _

His hand grabbed hers before she could reach any further.

_Ugh, so close… _

"Good morning, Dany." He said, loud enough for Yara to wake up too. The woman had slept facing him, and now she stirred awake, her mouth widening in a big yawn. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, turning his head halfway back.

"Yes." She replied, smiling despite herself. Then she leaned in to whisper in his ear, low enough so Yara couldn't hear, "But I wanted more."

Dany kissed his neck, inhaling and committing his scent to memory, before taking her arms away from him, shifting the furs to leave the bed and stand up. Her left arm was a little numb from the pressure, but as she stretched, her heart soared. _I haven't slept this well in a very long time._ Moving to pick up her clothes from the floor, her legs still felt a little wobbly.

"There's no rush to leave, my Queen." Yara said, watching her with a crooked grin. "We could always continue our fun. Right, Prince?"

As she got dressed, Dany was tempted to steal another look at Aegon. He had shifted his body to lie on his back, with only part of his chest exposed, the furs covering the rest. Her eyes lingered on his waist, where a tent was being formed by his arousal. _Was it my touch? _She wondered, mesmerized by the sight.

The captain must have noticed her staring, for she quickly grabbed the furs covering him to expose his lower half. Dany gasped, looking at his manhood shooting up, hard as a rock, throbbing with desire. Her head went wild at the thought of riding him faster and faster, until she screamed and he filled her up entirely.

"I bet I can convince him to stick it into you this time. What do you say?" Yara asked, her grin even wider now, as her hand moved to slowly stroke his length.

Dany felt the heat rise to her cheeks and quickly finished getting dressed, avoiding their eyes. "No, that's fine." She said, trying to maintain some dignity. _A Queen does not beg._ Walking to the door, she turned around to look back at them. "Thank you for…" Her voice faltered when she saw Yara licking his hard member with a smile, staring back at her. _The woman loves to tease._ "A lovely evening." She finished, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Catching her breath outside, her heart racing, she overheard Yara saying, "I guess we'll have to take care of that on our own."

_Even a Queen has needs, _she mused, feeling the wetness between her legs, as she leaned against the wall for support. _And no tongue can satisfy my need._

* * *

In the Chamber of the Painted Table, Dany was waiting for her council to gather. Most of them were present already, _except for the two lovebirds._ Tyrion had called for the meeting, his expression grave. She had spotted the man whispering hushed secrets with Varys several times during the morning, yet neither of them had divulged what made them so worried. _They must be afraid of my reaction._

Kinvara eyed her. "Worry not, Princess." The High Priestess said in High Valyrian, still calling her by the title from prophecy. "This war of distractions shall be over soon. By this meeting's end, you will thank your Prince for that."

_Hmm… Prince and Princess share the same word in High Valyrian._ While that was certainly amusing, another thought troubled her mind. _He may __be my Prince, but he isn't mine alone. I have to share him._

As if conjured, Aegon finally arrived with Yara, their hair disheveled and their clothes wrinkled. "Sorry we're late." The captain said, grinning at her. "We had to… take care of something."

_That woman is going to rub my own Prince in my face at every opportunity she gets._ Dany forced a smile, trying to ignore the images floating on her mind. "It's fine, we haven't been waiting long." Turning to Tyrion, she asked, "Well? What was so important that we needed to gather everyone to discuss?"

Her Hand cleared his throat. "There has been news from Harrenhal, Your Grace." He paused, briefly glancing at Varys, before taking a deep breath and continuing, "Euron Greyjoy has burned Lord Randyll Tarly, along with the Dothraki, Dornish and Reach soldiers following him."

"_What?_" She practically screamed at his ear.

_No, no, no… This has to be a mistake. It can't be true. I must have misheard it._

Tyrion flinched from her loud voice, backing away slowly. "It seems that there was a battle between Lord Tarly and the Lannister army, but Euron appeared with Rhaegal and burned everyone to dust, betraying his own alliance with Cersei." He spoke quickly, as if to dampen the effect of his words. _It didn't work._

Dany took a deep breath to try and cool down, failing to keep her fury in check. _This is a disaster._ "You mean to tell me that we've lost most of our army?" She asked, her hands balling into fists, ready to strike at something. _At him. His foolish strategy may have cost me the war._

_But I was an even greater fool for listening to him._

"We still have the forces here at Dragonstone, Your Grace." He replied, avoiding her gaze. "And now that Cersei has lost her entire army, she will pose no threat."

She ground her teeth, barely opening her mouth to say, "_Your sister_ barely posed a threat when we arrived at Sunspear with more than a hundred thousand soldiers under my banner." _Yara was right, we should've just attacked from there._ But instead, she listened to him. "If we're counting who lost more since I've landed here, she's winning."

"She did lose Euron, though." Aegon's voice made her blink and turn around to look at him. "I'm just saying, now Cersei has two enemies instead of one. She should be more willing to discuss terms."

Looking at his calm expression, her anger subsided a bit, as she paused to consider his words. _He's right. Cersei must be desperate now._

"We still have Euron to deal with." Yara supplied, frowning. "What happened after the battle?"

Varys spoke up, "He has taken up residence at Harrenhal, intimidating people into joining him under threat of dragonfire." The Spider produced a piece of parchment from his robes and walked over to Dany's side, offering it to her. As she read the words, he continued, "The madman is claiming the Iron Throne, and demanding a marriage to both Cersei Lannister and Queen Daenerys."

_Harrenhal is filled with the corpses of Dothraki and their horses,_ Dany read, her anger returning in full. She had united the khalasars in _Vaes Dothrak,_ made them all her bloodriders, and they followed her across an ocean, _just to die in this strange land._ Only five thousand remained with her at Dragonstone. _I'll burn him alive for this, _she vowed, crumpling the letter. _He will die screaming, and Drogon will eat his charred remains for supper. No, Rhaegal will. Vengeance tastes sweeter._

"That's ridiculous." Lord Paxter Redwyne said, shaking his balding head. "_Every man needs a little ambition,_ as Aunt Olenna used to say, but that's just silly."

Aegon was also shaking his head. "He took Rhaegal. We can't negotiate with him."

"My Prince is right." Dany nodded at him. "The only thing I'll offer Euron Greyjoy is a quick death. But we do need to take his blasted horn first. Any ideas as to where it might be?" She asked the room, hoping against hope that someone could offer her something, anything, new. _How long has it been since that day at sea, when the world came crashing down into the waves?_

The room went silent. _Predictable._ She was hardly surprised, as the horn could be anywhere…

"_The horn is hidden away in a ship moored at an inlet between the Isle of Tarth and Massey's Hook. There are twelve other ships guarding it._" Aegon said, in a strange voice, almost as if he was quoting someone.

Everyone turned to stare at him, wide eyed. _How did he know that?_ Dany wondered, her heart racing. _All this time, I've been lost and he had the map all along._

Tyrion snapped out of shock first. "How… how do you know that?" He asked, giving voice to what everyone else was thinking.

Aegon hesitated, blinking a few times, before replying, "I had a… dream."

"Surely, we can't base our strategy on a dream, Your Grace." Lord Redwyne said, giving a weak smile.

Yara narrowed her eyes. "Are you questioning your Prince, my lord?" She seemed ready to attack the man.

But Aegon put an arm in front of her, saying, "There's nothing wrong with questioning your rulers, since no order should be followed without question." He turned to face Lord Paxter and everyone else. "I understand it might be difficult to believe me, but this was no ordinary dream. I know we'll find the horn there." His voice was calm, exuding confidence.

_I'm no ordinary woman,_ Dany remembered telling a rude merchant in Qarth, _My dreams come true._

"I believe you." She said, gazing into his grey eyes. _He belongs by my side. We are one and the same._ He nodded back, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Yara looked from one to the other and clapped. "Well, now we have a destination. To fight thirteen ships, I think a fleet of fifteen should be enough." She said, scratching her chin. "Though I'd feel safer with twenty."

"Twenty, then." Lord Redwyne agreed, clearly convinced now. _Or pretending to be._ "That should still leave us with enough to handle whatever problems arise here."

Ser Davos Seaworth cleared his throat, and said, "Speaking of problems, after we get the horn, how do we deal with the Crow's Eye? He'll still have a dragon."

Everyone turned to her.

"I won't have my children fighting each other." Dany said, her voice steel. _That cannot be allowed to happen._ In the entire world, there were only three living dragons. _They are miracles, and I would be a poor mother if I used one to harm another._

Tyrion spoke up, "We only need to kill Euron, really. There must be a way to lure him away from Rhaegal." And he scratched his bearded chin, seemingly lost in thought.

"There is a faster way." High Priestess Kinvara said, calmly. She turned her eyes to Aegon and continued, "All I require is your help, my Prince."

"My help?" He asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

The woman smiled, her eyes shining rubies, as she raised one finger. "Lie with me for one night, and I shall produce a shadow to kill this Euron Greyjoy. It will be over quickly and quietly."

Dany's shock was replaced by a strange humor. _Why do they all want to sleep with him?_ She wondered, feeling a bit guilty herself. _We are dragons, and everyone wants to feel the heat._

Aegon slowly backed away, Yara moving to shield him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" The lady captain asked, with a scowl on her face. "If you want his cock so badly, you could come up with a better excuse." Her eyes glanced over to Dany, who tried very hard to keep her face still.

The High Priestess kept smiling. "If you doubt my intentions, ask Ser Davos Seaworth." She said, pointing at the man.

They turned to look at the old knight, who nodded. "It's true. I saw it myself, when that Red Woman birthed a shadow monster to kill Renly Baratheon." His voice was rough, and his eyes unfocused, probably recalling the memory. "Stannis must have slept with Melisandre, but she was only pregnant for a few days before she came to term."

"Then it works?" Tyrion asked, frowning. Ser Davos nodded, and he continued, "It sounds too good to be true. You have sex, and a magical assassin is born to kill your enemies? Why didn't Stannis use this to kill the other kings?"

Kinvara replied, "Everything has a cost, my lord. This ritual trades life for death. The man loses some of his…" She paused, apparently searching for the right word. "_Essence_ each time, growing weaker and weaker. I've never seen a man cast more than two shadows, and everyone who tried for a third time ended up dead."

"_No._" Yara said.

At the same time as Dany said, "_No._" The two women shared a look, before Dany continued, "This is not an option. We'll think of something else." _I can't risk losing him._

Varys cleared his throat. "There was another raven, Your Grace." He moved to give her another parchment. "This one is from King's Landing. I believe it's another option."

She read it over quickly, then passed it to Tyrion, who was trying to catch a glimpse. _The nerve of the woman!_

Missandei spoke up for the first time, "What does it say, Your Grace?" While a dear friend, she needed more confidence to speak up for herself. _Which is a shame, since I value her counsel above all others._ Grey Worm stood by her side, though he barely ever said anything at all.

"Cersei Lannister is offering an alliance against Euron Greyjoy." Dany replied, trying to keep her voice even.

Aegon's expression brightened, looking relieved. _He was probably considering the shadow option._ "That's good. At least she's considering peace. What are her terms?" He asked, looking at her.

"She will step down peacefully and allow me to take the Iron Throne, in exchange for a marriage to one of my allies."

_It's clever,_ she had to admit. The woman must have known there was no chance to survive an open conflict. She would burn down King's Landing to the ground, if necessary. _But now it won't be. And if I still do it, she can always claim that she had offered peace, and I was just as mad as my father. _

Dany turned to Tyrion, who had finished reading and now looked to be in deep thought. "What's her game?" He muttered, more to himself.

"You should accept this, Dany." Aegon said, moving closer. "We have to end this war, before it's too late. You know the reason why."

_The Army of the Dead._ She had her doubts before, but there was no question on her mind now. _I believe him. About anything and everything._ They had already begun the mining of dragonglass, most of the effort being supervised by Ser Davos, who knew the island better than anyone else. She would supply the ships to take the mineral to White Harbor once they had gathered enough of it.

Tyrion barked a bitter laugh, and said, "You might want to reconsider that, my Prince, when you learn who my sweet sister wishes to marry."

"Who?" Her nephew asked, curious.

"Why you, of course." Tyrion replied, with a grin. "One Aegon Targaryen in exchange for a throne. Seems reasonable, doesn't it?" His voice lowered a tone. "Which is why she would never do something like this. I understand the will to survive as much as anyone, but why would she relinquish power? It goes against everything father taught us as children." He shook his head. "No, she's definitely up to something here."

Yara was frowning. "Might be a trap. It wouldn't be the first time people died at a wedding." She flinched, as if struck by something, then turned to Aegon. "Sorry." The captain apologised, placing a hand on his arm.

Dany had heard about how Robb Stark died. _The Red Wedding,_ Tyrion had called it. _Odd that Daario suggested almost the same thing in Meereen,_ she wondered, feeling a bit disgusted with the notion. If she had to murder someone, she would never do it in such an underhanded way. _Those who wrong me deserve a very public and painful death._

"It's fine." He said, patting her hand. "I know it might be a trap, but I still say we should accept."

"Are you serious?" Dany asked, incredulous. "You know the woman can't be trusted. And even if by some miracle the wedding isn't a trap, are you truly willing to stay married to Cersei Lannister for the rest of your life? Think carefully, nephew."

She noticed Yara's reaction. _I've never seen her so afraid before._ The woman was looking at Aegon as though he might vanish in front of her eyes at any moment.

He hesitated for a moment, before finally nodding. "Aye. This war has gone on long enough. The sooner we find peace, the sooner we can all focus on the real threat."

"You say that now, but you don't know my sister." Tyrion said, with a grimace on his face. "You'll never find peace with her."

Aegon seemed determined. "It doesn't matter. None of this matters if we can't work together." His voice grew stronger, as he walked around the Painted Table. "Cersei isn't the enemy. Euron isn't the enemy. No living person is an enemy. We shouldn't be fighting each other right now." He stopped by the northern edge of the map, and placed a hand on the Wall. "I've seen the face of the true enemy, and when he crosses the Wall, Gods help us all if we're not ready." He paused to take a deep breath, then continued, "If marrying Cersei can give us even a small chance to prepare, to stop this madness before more good soldiers die, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

The room went quiet for a while, everyone considering the weight of his words. _My Prince would be a fine King._

"Impressive." Kinvara said, breaking the silence. Her red eyes were fixed on him with a burning intensity. "Perhaps Priestess Melisandre was right after all."

Lord Redwyne seemed confused. "I don't understand, who's the true enemy?" He asked, looking from one person to the next.

"It's a long story, my lord." Dany replied, unwilling to prolong the meeting any further. "However, know that my Prince is right, and we need to end this war soon." Turning to Aegon, she continued, "I must admit I'd prefer burning Cersei alive, rather than seeing her marry my nephew, but if you're willing to make the sacrifice… I suppose we could at least try to work together."

Tyrion spoke up, "I just hope Lady Olenna Tyrell can understand this urgency, considering how badly she wanted to kill my sister."

"That's true." Lord Paxter offered, his eyes narrowing. "Aunt Olenna will never accept working with that murderer. Not without good reason."

_Ugh, that's right._ She hadn't considered how the Queen of Thorns might react. _She won't be happy._

"She's not the only one." Nymeria Sand spoke for the first time, her expression severe. "Cersei Lannister has many enemies."

Aegon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it can be hard to let go of the past. Some things can never be forgotten." He glanced at Theon Greyjoy with a pained expression, before turning back. "One family kills someone you love, then you kill someone they love, and on and on it goes, until there's no one left to love." He closed his eyes for a moment, slowly shaking his head. "I should hate the Lannisters. Lord Tywin is the reason I never met my brother or my sister. He's also responsible for killing Robb, who I loved as a brother. Cersei and Joffrey arrested and executed my uncle, who I loved as a father." He paused to take a deep breath. "Vengeance won't bring them back, though. They're gone. More death won't solve anything."

Nymeria didn't seem convinced. "Are you saying we should forgive Cersei for her crimes?" She asked, exasperated. "She didn't just kill your uncle, she burned down the Sept of Baelor! Hundreds of people, dead, because she wouldn't admit to fucking her brother, to cheating on that fat oaf Robert and making little pale blonde bastards instead of fat princes. _That woman is evil._ Is that what you want?"

"_What I want…_" Aegon started, chuckling to himself, his eyes drifting to the Painted Table. "That's a great question. I don't hear it very often, but I've always thought about it. And I've learned that you can never get what you want, because everybody wants something else. Of course I don't want to marry her." Frowning, he scratched his bearded chin. "But I don't think she wants to marry me either. We'll both be miserable together. Maybe that will be her punishment."

"Death is a far better punishment." Nymeria insisted.

Aegon shook his head. "Trust me, death is no punishment. Death is nothing. It's darkness." _He speaks as if he knows… _Dany remembered the many scars on his chest. _No one could survive that. But no one could survive walking through fire either,_ she reasoned, while he continued, "I'm not asking you to forgive her. I can't forgive her. All I'm asking is that we stop killing each other for a while. Is that really so much to ask?"

The woman stared at him for a long time, before finally relenting. "I hope you can convince her too, because I'm pretty sure she's planning your death right now."

"Indeed." Tyrion agreed, raising his hands in a conciliatory way. "While I appreciate what the Prince is trying to say, it's quite clear that Cersei will try to kill both him and the Queen sometime in the near future. That's the only way she can return to power." He added, shrugging.

Dany was tired of the discussion. _We've all said what we needed to say._ "Many men have tried to kill me. I'd wager my nephew has a similar past. And yet, we're both still standing here. If Cersei tries anything, we'll catch her and deal with her appropriately." She clapped, drawing the attention of everybody.

Yara jumped, as if shocked out of her stupor. The woman had been strangely quiet ever since Aegon agreed to marry Cersei. _Now that she can't have him, she knows how she really feels about him._

"I accept the alliance. Let Cersei know, and figure out the best way to fool Euron Greyjoy." Dany addressed Tyrion. She wasn't happy with his service, but he was still her Hand. _Until I find someone better._ "In the meantime, Lady Yara will assemble a fleet of twenty ships to find the horn."

Aegon nodded, and said, "I'll go with her."

"No." Yara quickly replied, her voice cold.

The mood in the room shifted. Everybody exchanged nervous glances, not knowing how to react.

"Yara?" Aegon seemed confused, turning to look at her.

The captain avoided his gaze. "We'll need experienced sailors. The Prince has little experience at sea."

"I need to go. The… _dream_ was very specific about that part." Aegon turned from Yara to Dany, almost pleading.

_Ugh, I don't want to get in the middle of this._ But she had to. _For Rhaegal._ "Prince Aegon will join you, Lady Yara. Don't fight this."

Yara bowed low. "As my Queen commands." She said, stiffly. "If that's all, I'll go assemble the fleet. Excuse me." And she left the room.

Aegon looked as if he had been slapped on the face, watching the captain leave.

High Priestess Kinvara spoke up, "I shall join them as well." She turned to Dany, probably remembering she had to ask, "If my Queen allows, of course."

_The woman could be useful if they need to go faster… Gwynt. His name was Gwynt._

Dany nodded. "Well, I think we're done for today." She said, exhausted. "My lords and ladies, my prince…" Her eyes lingered on Aegon, trying to convey her gratitude with more than words. "Thank you. We might have peace after all."

* * *

**This was the biggest chapter yet. I knew there was a lot to discuss, but I didn't expect to go on, and on, and on… I mean, by the end I was just wiped. You almost forget all the smut at the beginning ;) **

**About that, I feel I should clarify Dany and Yara's sexual preferences, since it came up here. The books and the show differ on that, but my version of their sexuality is more fluid. While they're both willing to explore, Dany prefers men, while Yara prefers women. **

**Yara's case is particularly interesting, as she comes to grips with her feelings. I don't plan on having her POV, but I might reconsider that.  
**

**The date is 24/06/2019**


	31. Two Hearts

**Jon and Dany share knowledge. **

**This is my favorite chapter yet. I'm quite proud of how everything fits together. Hope you like it too.**

* * *

**31\. Two Hearts - Jon**

In his empty bed, staring up at the ceiling of his cold room in the Stone Drum Tower of Dragonstone, Jon wondered why Yara had been acting so strangely. Ever since that meeting, she had avoided him like a plague, and he couldn't find the woman anywhere. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her, but as soon as she spotted him, she was gone.

When he had finally given up the chase, he sought Theon's advice. _Everyone deals with loss in a different way,_ was all the man had said, leaving Jon dumbfounded.

_Loss? What did she lose?_

He just wanted to talk to her… To see her crooked grin when she said something funny… To laugh at her dirty jests… To hear her laughter… To feel her tongue on his mouth… To taste her on his tongue… To watch her lose control when they joined together… To lose himself inside her…

Feeling his hardness, he took a deep breath to calm down. _This won't work. I need some fresh air._ He left the bed and got dressed, looking out the window. From the darkness, he figured the sun wouldn't be up for a few hours. _But I can't just stay awake in bed,_ he decided, opening the door and leaving the room.

The castle was mostly deserted, with only a few Unsullied guards patrolling the corridors. _I really should learn their language, _he thought, _if they're going to risk their lives to save us against the dead, it's the least I could do._ Jon had learned a bit of High Valyrian from maester Luwin when he was younger, though without practice, he could barely put five words together.

Passing through Aegon's Garden, he stopped to look at the colorful flowers growing around the tall dark trees. Jon briefly considered picking up a few to make a bouquet for Yara, before shaking his head. _She's likely to punch me just for the suggestion, _he mused, with a smile on his face. _But what would she like?_ He wondered.

Sansa had told him once, when they were younger and he was alone during a feast in Winterfell, that women loved to hear compliments. _But it must be honest, _she said, showing a wisdom far beyond her age at the time, _because we can always tell when a man is lying. _She must have felt sorry for him, since he never danced with anyone, while Robb would have a different girl in his arms for each song. Arya would help in a different way. _You can always dance with me, Jon, _she would say, grabbing his hand and leading him to the dance floor. She wasn't very graceful, stepping on his toes all the time, but he couldn't stop smiling as he watched his little sister trying to please him.

His eyes watered a bit. _I was lucky to be raised by my uncle._ He paused. _No, I was raised by my father._

Jon decided to write a letter to Sansa, so he walked over to the Sea Dragon Tower, where the rookery was located. The large structure was shaped like a dragon, _like everything else in this castle,_ gazing serenely out to sea. On the way, he passed through the inner and middle walls, surveying the strange architecture of the place. Other than dragons, there were basilisks, manticores, griffins, wyverns, minotaurs, and all manner of wild creatures serving as gargoyles. Jon wondered what was the point of having them in the first place. _A good, solid wall doesn't need any decoration to stop attackers._

Reaching the maester's chambers, he opened the door to find a fairly young man seated at a desk, writing in small script. He had a linked chain around his neck,_ but he__ can't have seen more than thirty namedays,_ Jon figured, looking at his dark hair and fair face, unmarred by wrinkles. Compared to ancient maester Aemon, this man was barely out of his swaddling clothes.

"Excuse me." He said quietly, trying not to startle the man. But he jumped in surprise anyway, his head snapping towards Jon, eyes wide. "Are you the maester here?" _He's far too young._

The man stood up, bowing. "Yes, my Prince. I am called Pylos." He must have noticed Jon's face, for he said, "I may be young, but I assure you that I've completed my training. The Citadel wouldn't have sent me here otherwise." _He must say that often._

Jon smiled, raising his hands in defense. "I believe you. I can see the chain. I just need to send a raven to Winterfell."

"Have you written the letter already, or do you wish me to write it for you?" The maester asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's best if I write it, but I'll require parchment, ink and quill." Jon replied, deciding which words he would use to explain the situation to his sister.

_Sorry you named me your prince, but I'm someone else's prince now._ That was probably not the best way to go about it. _But can I really be the prince of two queens? And what happens when I marry Cersei?_ He dreaded to think of how Sansa would react to that news. _I wonder if she'll go to King's Landing for the wedding… _

Maester Pylos motioned to the desk, saying, "They're all here, my Prince, if you forgive the mess." He moved to pick up his written documents, clearing the area. "Please, make yourself comfortable while I go prepare a raven. Come find me up in the rookery when you're done."

"Thank you, maester Pylos." Jon said, moving to sit at the desk, while the man left the room.

He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and started writing, _Dear __s__ister… _

* * *

After he sent the letter, he found himself climbing up the cliffs to the place where he had met Drogon for the first time. _The view must be great from that place,_ he mused, looking up at the still dark sky. _A nice way to see the sunrise._ When he reached the grassy plateau, someone else was already there.

"Dany?" He said, grinning when she jumped in surprise, turning to look at him. _She's the second person I've spooked today._

She put a hand over her chest, and her breathing quickened, before she asked, "Do you often go around scaring people in the early hours of the morning?" Her eyes were narrowed, but her lips curled into a smile.

"Not often, though you're not the first person I've spooked today. Sorry." He offered, trying to hide his amusement.

She waved a hand. "It's fine. I suppose I was too distracted looking for Drogon. He's usually here around this time." Her voice was light, but he could tell she was concerned for his safety. _Once you've lost a child, the fear of losing another will always be there._

"I'm sure he's fine." Jon tried to sound more confident than he actually was. "If I could fly, I'd be in the air all the time. He must feel the same way."

She closed her eyes, saying, "I know he's fine." Opening her eyes again to look at him, she continued, "Dragons and their riders share a close bond. Our minds become one, so we can usually feel what they're feeling, even from a distance." _That sounds like warging._

"Can you see the world from his eyes?" Jon asked, looking for confirmation.

Dany frowned. "An odd question, but no. That's not how it works." She paused for a moment, seeming to think harder, then said, "Perhaps I misspoke. It's not our minds that become one, but our hearts." She put a hand over her chest, right between her breasts. "The bond is more emotional than anything else. When I'm angry, or sad, or happy, I know Drogon can feel it too. And the same is true in reverse, for I can tell how he feels." She took a deep breath, then continued, "It can be… _Overwhelming_ at times, when we're both feeling the same thing. It's hard to stay in control."

Jon considered her words for a long time, then he finally said, "That's probably why not everyone can be a dragonrider. One would require a great deal of emotional strength not to lose oneself." He turned to look into her violet eyes, gaining a greater respect for his aunt. "You must be quite strong." He almost felt silly for stating the obvious.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened, but no words came out. He noticed a red tinge creep up on her cheeks. _She's embarrassed. I should change the subject._

"The reason I asked was because of my direwolf, Ghost." He said, avoiding her eyes.

"You…" Her voice sounded hoarse, but she coughed and asked, "You have a direwolf?"

He nodded. "Aye. And we also share a bond, but our minds really do become one."

She narrowed her eyes, and said, "Do you mean that… _you can see the world from his eyes?_" Her voice made it sound that she was more impressed than incredulous. _She'll believe me._

"Aye." Jon replied, taking a deep breath. "Remember when I mentioned a dream yesterday?" She nodded, then he continued, "Well, it wasn't really a dream. It's called _warging. _When I send my mind into Ghost's body, I can move, and smell, and see the world as if I were a direwolf myself. I can also hear his thoughts, while he hears mine." He scratched his chin, recalling the experience. "Well, I suppose a better way to put it is that _our minds share one body._"

Dany stood there considering his words for a while, then she asked, "But what happens to your body when your mind is with Ghost?" _She's clever, _he thought, _since that's the main weakness._

"It's rendered useless." He answered, feeling a bit ashamed that his power wasn't as strong as hers. "My eyes go white, and my limbs go weak, causing me to fall if I'm standing when I do it. I've only seen it happen once, when I warged into Ghost and he was looking right at me. As I slipped into his skin, I could see my own body falling in front of me." _If not for Howland Reed, I'd probably have a few extra scars on my head._

She seemed worried. "Isn't that dangerous?" Dany asked, but didn't wait for a reply. "What if something happens to your body while you're away? Does that mean you're dead, or alive, or what? Could you jump into another body from Ghost, and live again? And what happens to that person? Could you take over their body against their will?" _That's a lot of questions. More than I had when Lord Reed taught me._

He started laughing at the irony, and she pushed him, saying, "Don't laugh, this is serious! What if something happens to you? Aren't you worried?" She definitely seemed worried.

"Dany, I don't know the answer to even half of these questions, and I doubt anyone would know." Jon said, before remembering that Bran might. _Or the Three-eyed Raven, _as he had called himself. "I have enough control not to do it when I'm awake, but when I'm sleeping it's a bit different. I suppose my mind seeks Ghost for comfort." He frowned, thinking of how nice it felt to have his direwolf by his side. "When I'm with him, I don't feel so lonely anymore. He's always there, at the back of my mind, reminding me that I'm not alone. I guess I need that." He shrugged.

"Everybody needs that." She said, her voice distant. After a while, she frowned. "Wait, so how did Ghost know about the horn? Isn't he at Winterfell?"

Jon hesitated. _I'm asking her to believe a lot already, maybe I should be careful here._ "Well, that part is more confusing, because even I am not sure what happened." He started, trying to gather his thoughts. "Aye, Ghost is at Winterfell, but he wasn't the one who told me about the horn. Bran is also there."

"Bran, your cousin?" She interrupted, before shaking her head. "Brother, I mean. Sorry, go on."

He nodded, saying, "Brother, aye. And he seems… _different_ now, than he was when I last saw him. He knows things he shouldn't, and he could tell what was happening as it happened." _I probably could've made that clearer._

"What do you mean?" Dany asked, confused. _Can't blame her._

Jon ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with a way to explain. _Maybe an example?_ "He knew you were talking to Tyrion at Aegon's Garden. That was the morning of my second day here, if I remember right, before we had breakfast together."

Her eyebrows shot up, impressed. "That's right, we were discussing what to do about you…" She passed her fingers over her lips, eyes unfocused, before she rounded them on him. "Aegon, if… I had proposed a… marriage between us… Would… Would you have accepted?" Her words came in pauses, like she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask.

_Would I marry my own aunt?_ Jon asked himself, trying to consider it. Before he could think, she said, "Nevermind, it doesn't matter now, I guess. Besides, I can't…" Her voice trailed.

"You can't… What?" He asked, curious.

Dany took a deep breath, then looked at him with a sad expression. "I can't have children." Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"How… Why…" Jon started, before realising she wouldn't want to talk about that. Instead of asking stupid questions, he spread his arms to catch her in a hug, offering some comfort. She held on tightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask." He whispered in her ear.

"It's fine, I can tell you." She said, breaking away from the hug to look at him. "During my first marriage, the witch who murdered my husband cursed me to become barren, right after delivering my stillborn baby." Her voice seemed a bit stronger now, but it was still filled with pain. _Gods, what happened to her? It's no wonder she's so strong now, after all she's been through._

Jon considered her words for a moment, before asking, "What if she's lying?"

"What?" Dany blinked several times, staring at him in confusion.

_It seems obvious, really._ "Well, what if the woman who murdered your husband was lying to you, out of spite? I mean, if she's capable of murder, why would you believe her?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Her expression brightened into a smile, and she chuckled. "I guess I never thought of it in that way…" Dany shook her head, then raised her face. "How do you do it?" She asked, staring at him in wonder.

"Do what?" Now he was confused.

"Your words…" She said, smiling at him, amethyst eyes shining. "The way you speak, your manner… I don't know what it is, but it makes people want to believe in you." Her smile widened. "You give them hope. You give me hope."

Jon didn't know what to say. _I just tell the truth._ Thankfully, he was saved from responding by the blazing light of the sun, rising from the east. He turned to look, amazed by the sight. Hues of red, orange and yellow danced along the horizon, the brilliantly shining orb poking out from the sea, casting rays among the clouds, as darkness faded across the land.

He felt an arm slip around his waist, and Dany was by his side, looking out at the same view. He put an arm around her shoulders. "Have you ever seen anything like it?" He asked, turning his eyes back to the breathtaking sight.

Dany leaned into his shoulder, holding him tighter, and said, "Never. Nothing like this."

* * *

**You know, with Jon and Yara being so fun to write, sometimes I forget that Dany and Jon can be pretty fun to write too. Chapters like this one make me remember that. **

**That emotional bond with the dragons was something I came up, to make certain future events more believable. I'm not sure if that's how it works in the books, but it makes sense if you think about it.**

**Alright, I think we should return to Winterfell now. It's been a while. I miss the Stark girls too.**

**Next chapter is coming on Sunday. I must say, this part of the story is really interesting to me, so I'm writing much faster. I have three other chapters already written, but I'll keep following the schedule, just to give me some wiggle room. At least until I reach a specific point I have planned. If I make it there early, I'll post all chapters at once.**

**27/06/2019**


	32. Not No One

**Arya accepts the truth. **

**New POV, but she'll be staying from now on. I figured Sansa couldn't be the only POV at Winterfell, and Bran isn't a choice. Yet. I have one Bran POV coming in the future, but it's almost at the end of the story.**

**I wanted to write something else, but I remembered that we haven't seen her reaction to Jon's real name yet. And I promised we wouldn't skip that, so here we go. The other stuff can wait. This is pretty important.  
**

**Enjoy. Next chapter on Wednesday.  
**

* * *

**32\. Not No One - Arya**

_Petyr Baelish._ Arya had to remember that was the name she needed to answer to when someone called her. Wearing someone's face only changed how they viewed her, not how she viewed herself. _I am Arya of House Stark, _she had to be reminded, every time she spotted her reflection on a shiny surface. _I am not No One. Not anymore._

"How does it work?" Sansa's voice broke the silence. Her sister had been staring for a long time, seemingly transfixed at the sight of a dead man walking right in front of her.

The face responded to her voice. _Sansa, my love, _Arya seemed to hear in her mind. She remembered that Jaqen H'ghar had warned of this, of how the faces sometimes carried their memories and traumas with them. Her first night of sleep after putting on the face of Petyr Baelish had been plagued by strange dreams, where she lusted after her mother Catelyn, who turned into her sister Sansa, who turned into her aunt Lysa, who pushed her down, making her fall for a very long time, before finally waking up. _The man was obsessed with the women of our family, __until__ one of __us__ killed him._

_I need a break. _Arya put a hand on the invisible seam under her jaw, pulling the face away. Sansa gasped, raising a hand to cover her mouth, then she turned around to make sure nobody was watching. _I made sure of that a lon__g__ time ago._ Arya was no stranger to being unnoticed. She had locked all doors and windows to the library well before they started this conversation.

"It's too complicated to explain, but basically I can fool everyone if they don't come too close." Arya replied, evenly. She knew that if anyone touched her, they would be able to tell the difference, and the glamour would fade.

Sansa seemed to be in deep thought. After a long while, she said, "Robin isn't very bright, so he should be fooled easily… It's the other Vale lords I'm worried about. We'll need their soldiers if what Jon said was true."

"Where is Jon?" Arya asked, frowning in suspicion.

The only reason she came to Winterfell was because of what Hot Pie had said, that Jon was King in the North. She longed to see her big brother again, to have him muss up her hair, and give her a hug and tell her, _I missed you, little sister._ It didn't take long for her hope to become disappointment, the moment she stood at the South Gate in front of those stupid guards. Sansa was Queen in the North now, _and Jon __is__ nowhere to be found…_

"He left for Dragonstone, to treat with Daenerys Targaryen." Her sister replied, sounding like she had said that many times before. "It's been over a week, but he hasn't sent any word yet." A crease marred her brow, and Arya could tell she was worried.

"But isn't he the King in the North?" She asked, still a bit confused. Then a strange notion crept in her mind. "Or are you two…?" _Married? _Would Sansa really go that far just for a crown? _No, Jon would never accept that. __She was always horrible to him._ Arya paused._ To us._

Sansa's eyes widened and she laughed out loud, opening her mouth to show her perfect teeth. "No, Arya, I'm not married to Jon. I wouldn't marry my own brother." Then she frowned, saying, "Interesting that you'd think so, though. The reason he lost the crown is because he's not really our brother."

"_Yes, he is!_" Arya protested loudly, emotion filling her voice. "He's a Stark, and he's always been one. Just because you hate him so much that-"

"_Arya!_" Sansa interrupted her, the smile returning to her face. "Of course he'll always be a Stark, that's not what I meant. Just calm down and listen for a while, alright?"

She took a deep breath.

_No One wouldn't have lost her temper. Faceless Men have no emotions. _

_But I am not No One. I am Arya Stark, and I love my brother._

With a hint of a smile on her face, she finally said, "Fine."

Sansa nodded. "You might want to sit down. It's quite a lot to take in." She moved towards a reading table with four chairs surrounding it, and took a seat herself.

Arya was going to refuse the offer and stand, but watching her sister move to sit down, she sighed and followed her lead. _She always loved bossing people around when they were younger. Now she finally gets to do it with a crown on her head._

"Do you know a man named Howland Reed?" Sansa asked, raising her eyebrows.

Arya nodded. "He's father's friend, the Lord of Greywater Watch in the Neck." She remembered her lessons with maester Luwin, who had made sure all children of Winterfell knew who ruled every castle and keep in the North.

"Indeed. He knew father very well, and their friendship extends even beyond death." Sansa said gravely, with a pained expression on her face. "When father needed friends to help him search for aunt Lyanna, Lord Howland was one of them."

_Father never talked about Lyanna._ The few times he had said anything, it was usually a lecture. _You have the wolf blood in you, girl, just like her,_ he would say, whenever Arya acted out. _I pray you don't end up like her,_ he would often add in a sad tone. Some people had also told her she looked like her aunt, _but that's unlikely, since she was famous for her beauty. I'm only Arya Horseface,_ she thought bitterly.

Sansa was still talking, "At the end of Robert's Rebellion, father found her. She was hidden in Dorne, at a tower guarded by two kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne and Lord Commander Gerold Hightower." She paused here, looking at Arya.

_Is she expecting a question?_ _Just finish the tale._

"Why were two kingsguard at the tower, you ask?" Grinning, Sansa asked her own question, then answered, "To protect the heir to the Iron Throne. You see, aunt Lyanna had married Rhaegar Targaryen in secret, and their union produced a baby boy. It was that baby they were protecting."

"We have a cousin?" Arya asked, before her mind worked the pieces of the puzzle, eyes widening as she did so.

_If Jon's not our brother… And we have a cousin… _

_No… That can't be true… If so, then that baby is… _

"_...Jon?_" Her voice seemed distant from her own mouth, as if coming from someone else.

Sansa nodded. "Yes. Jon is aunt Lyanna's son, by Rhaegar Targaryen. Father took him and raised him as a bastard to protect him from Robert Baratheon, but his mother had named him Aegon."

Arya fell silent for a long time, trying to work things out in her mind. Father didn't sleep with some strange woman during the war and brought a bastard home, he just pretended to do that to keep his nephew safe. Even from his wife. _Mother __had always __treated Jon terribly. _Treating a bastard poorly wasn't kind, but treating a prince the same way…

_Jon is a Targaryen prince. And he had been one from the very beginning. All those games they played as children, when they pretended to be ancient heroes, like Aemon the Dragonknight, or Visenya, those heroes were Jon's family all along. He's a dragon. _

_But he has always been my hero._

"It all makes sense now…" Her voice was hoarse, as she remembered all the moments she cried and he was there for her, to make her smile again. The only one who really understood her, who never forced her to be something she wasn't, who would play swords with her, even when father forbid it.

_He__ gave __me_ _Needle._

"Of course he's a prince… What else could he be?" Arya started laughing, her eyes watering from the emotion she had been hiding under the surface the whole time. She wanted to run to Dragonstone and find him, to tell him this didn't change anything, because nothing in this world could ever change how she felt about him.

_He's my brother. And I'm his little sister._

Sansa sat there, watching her intently. "I know… Though it took me longer than you to realise it." Her expression changed to guilt. "Growing up here at Winterfell, I wasn't very kind to him. Or to you." She stared into Arya's eyes, the blue shining. "I'm sorry. I was a silly, stupid little girl."

"Yes, you were." Arya said, a bit too quickly. Then she sighed. "But I suppose I wasn't very nice to you either. You were always so prim and proper, and I hated that. Mother, Septa Mordane, father, everyone wanted me to be just as good as you. Everyone except Jon." Her expression brightened for a moment, before she went on, "You don't know what it's like to have an older sister who makes you look worse just by standing next to her. It's no wonder everyone called me _Horseface._"

Sansa huffed. "You should look into a mirror now, sister. You're beautiful."

Arya rolled her eyes. _Her courtesies remain perfect._ "My point is that I'm also sorry." She ignored the compliment. "I came here to find my brother, but I forgot that my sister might need me too." Arya moved to stand up, Petyr Baelish's clothes hanging loose on her slender frame. "So I'll be here if you need me, my Queen." She said, giving a short bow.

The Queen in the North grinned, getting up from her chair. Then, as fast as a blur, she was squeezing Arya in a fierce hug. "I missed you." She said, holding her tightly.

Arya hesitated for a moment, before wrapping her arms around her sister, welcoming the feelings in her heart, as she replied, "I missed you too."

* * *

**Not gonna lie, this chapter made me cry. Arya & Jon is by far my favorite relationship. ****Well, favorite platonic relationship.**

**So much so, that m****y original draft had Arya following Jon to Dragonstone****. ****But Sansa needed her more, ****so she'll stay at Winterfell a little longer****.**

**By the way, Dark Sister is going to end up with Arya. Spoiler alert. ****One thing I won't spoil is how the Faceless Men will show up again (dammit, I ****gotta stop doing that****). Well, there you go. ****Arya needs her own arc too.**

**30/06/2019**


	33. A New Sister

**Sansa makes plans to protect the North, and deals with new arrivals.  
**

**Next chapter on Saturday. Enjoy.**

* * *

**33\. A New Sister - Sansa**

Perusing the large map of the North and the neighboring lands beyond the Wall laid out over the table, Sansa was waiting for Bran to return. Her brother's body was still sitting right by her side, but his mind was gone. _The Three-eyed Raven loves to fly,_ she mused, watching his white eyes.

"This is so creepy." Robin Arryn said, his gaze fixed on Bran. "What happened to his eyes?"

"Indeed, this is passing strange, Your Grace." Lord Royce offered, looking unsettled. "Are you sure your brother is well?"

Tormund Giantsbane answered for her, "You southerners never saw a warg before, eh?" His voice was filled with contempt. "It's a wonder you don't get ambushed all the time, then. Beyond the Wall, we need eyes in the air at all times, or it could mean our lives."

"What's a warg?" Arya asked. _No, when she's wearing that face, I must call her Lord Baelish._

Sansa still didn't know how Faceless Men magic worked, but it was certainly useful. Arya had hidden Littlefinger's corpse, taking his clothes and everything in his pockets. _And his face._

"Jon told me something about that before he left." She said, trying to remember the words her brother had used. "It means he can send his mind into an animal, and see the world through their eyes. Jon can do it with Ghost."

Baelish's eyes lit up, and the genuine look of wonder on his face was stranger than anything else she had seen today. _"Really?"_ He asked, his voice a little higher than usual. "I wonder if-"

"Yes, _Lord Baelish._" She interrupted, afraid her sister might say something that Littlefinger would never say. _This is a dangerous game we're playing._

Blinking a few times, he wiped his hands on his clothes, his expression returning to normal. "I only meant to say that the Prince of Winterfell is a very interesting young man. His talents could be useful."

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief that nobody in the room had noticed the slip. _We need to find a way to remove Littlefinger without raising suspicion__s,_ but she couldn't deny it was nice to have someone else on her side. Arya had promised to follow her orders, so it was almost as if she could tell Littlefinger what to do.

"Excuse me." Lady Alys Karstark said, running away from the room with a hand over her mouth, her face a pale shade of green. The woman had been sick quite often these past few days. _She should see maester Wolkan about that, _Sansa considered, _it could be a serious illness._

Tormund barked a laugh, ignoring the young woman leaving the room. "I always knew there was something more to the little crow. It's probably why Orell hated him, too. They say one warg can recognise another."

"Unnatural, if you ask me." Lord Glover muttered, loud enough to be heard over the silence.

_Nobody asked you,_ she thought, narrowing her eyes. Sansa was simply waiting for an opportunity to remove him too.

"Definitely useful, though." Lady Mormont was frowning in a thoughtful way.

Bran opened his eyes. "I found a small group of six wights, being led by a single White Walker." He said, in that monotone voice she had come to expect when he opened his mouth. "Five of them were raised by that same White Walker, but one was raised by the Night King. He always keeps one with every patrol, to act as his eyes and ears. Make sure you destroy the Walker first, so that only one wight remains standing."

"Where are they?" She asked, leaning over the map.

Bran's chair was already placed near the northern edge of the map, so all he had to do was point. "They're scouting the Haunted Forest, near Eastwatch-by-the-Sea." He said, moving a finger to a point a bit north of the easternmost castle along the Wall. "By the time you arrive there, they might have moved, so I shall guide you once you reach the castle. Look for a raven with white eyes."

Tormund nodded. "I'll be leaving then."

"Alone?" Sansa asked, an idea forming on her mind. "Shouldn't you take more people with you? It could be dangerous to face so many."

"I reckon the crows will help once I reach Eastwatch." The wildling replied, unconcerned.

"Still… I'd feel safer if you weren't going alone." She said, turning to Littlefinger with a pointed look.

Lord Baelish nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes, I'm sure whoever helps Tormund here will have the eternal gratitude of the Queen in the North. And once the rest of the realm learns of the threat, all the other lords and ladies of the South should be eternally grateful as well." Turning to face Lord Arryn, he asked, "Wouldn't you agree, Sweetrobin?"

The young man's eyes brightened. "_I'll help him!_" He practically shouted, startling the other lords. "I've always wanted to see if these tales of deadmen are true, and I've never visited the Wall before." He sounded excited for the opportunity.

"An excellent idea, my lord." Littlefinger said, looking at her with a hint of a smile.

Sansa smiled back. "Thank you, Lord Arryn. Your bravery won't be forgotten." She said, in her most regal tone. Turning to face the others, she asked, "How about you, Lord Glover?"

"Me?" The foolish man seemed to shrink when everyone turned to stare at him.

"Yes. _You_, my lord." Sansa's smile widened. "I'm sure you'll accompany Lord Arryn and Tormund on this expedition, won't you? It's just that you've always doubted Jon, so I should think you'd relish the chance to prove him wrong and see for yourself that White Walkers and wights aren't real after all. And if they are real, you'll be remembered as one of the few who risked their lives to help the realm. This seems the perfect opportunity for you." _I've got you now._

Lord Glover stood there with his mouth half-open for a good while, before he finally said, "Your Grace makes a fair point. I'll join them too."

"Good." Sansa laid her hands on the map. "I expect you all to leave today. If you need supplies, or men, or horses, they will be provided for you. I'm sure I don't need to impress upon you the importance of this venture. We must convince the southern lords to help us, or the North will fall before they even know why. That cannot be allowed to happen." _I would be forever known as the Queen of the Dead North,_ she thought, the image of a skeleton with crown atop her red hair troubling her mind. She took a deep breath._ We still have time. Jon will convince the dragon queen,_ she told herself. "Now that we all know that to do, this meeting is concluded."

* * *

Walking along the courtyard towards the South Gate, Sansa turned to look at Brienne helping a group of young women with their weapons. Her sworn shield had taken it upon herself to become the temporary master-at-arms of Winterfell, training everyone who needed it.

"Is it true, my Queen? Lord Arryn is leaving for the Wall?" A handsome young knight asked, trying to keep up with her long strides. _Ser __Harr__old__ Hardyng._ He had sandy hair and deep blue eyes, with an aquiline nose and an easy smile, which brought dimples on his cheeks. He was dressed in fine clothes which seemed to never have seen even a speck of dirt, a velvet blue doublet streaked by white stripes, under a red fur cloak.

She sighed. The man had been trying to charm her ever since he arrived with Robin and the other Vale lords, finding any excuse to seek her out and have a private conversation, always singing praises of her beauty. The younger Sansa would have loved the attention of a comely man such as himself, the perfect prince of a song about lonely maidens locked in a tower by some evil beast. However, she had learned her lessons well. _Sometimes, the princes are the real beasts._

She continued walking, as she replied, "Yes, Ser Harrold. My cousin has bravely shouldered the responsibility to help the North in our greatest time of need. He should leave for Eastwatch in a few hours."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Impressive that he would volunteer for such a dangerous expedition… Or impressive that someone could convince him to do as such." Then he smiled, making the dimples on his cheeks stand out. "And I've told you many times that you can call me Harry. There's no need for formalities between us, my Queen."

_Harry the Heir_, as some other lords were fond of calling him. Due to a strange number of coincidences, the young ward of Lady Anya Waynwood was the sole inheritor of the Vale, should anything happen to Robin. _He's probably hoping Lord Arryn suffers some great tragedy._ Sansa had only wanted her cousin gone to give her more time to work on this Littlefinger situation, before everything blew up in her face.

"Very well." She said, allowing a smile to grace her own lips. "Harry. Why don't you join Lord Arryn? I've heard many tales of your bravery and skill with a blade. It seems only natural you'd be drawn to such dangers." _Unless they were blatant lies._

He almost tripped, but managed to compose himself in time. "Oh, how I wish I could, my Queen." His sad voice was exaggerated, as he put his left hand on his right shoulder. "Alas, I've hurt my sword arm while rescuing a fair maiden from a drunken lout. I'm afraid I wouldn't be of any use to my lord beyond the Wall."

She was saved the trouble of responding by the sight of the South Gate, and the knights awaiting there. Her uncle Edmure had sent a letter explaining how their forces weren't strong enough to both hold the Riverlands and help the North, but he had managed to send help in another way.

"My lady." A large and tall young man stepped forward to greet her, bowing low. He had light brown hair, neatly trimmed to his face, which sported a faint growing beard. The armor on his broad chest had the sigil of a red striding huntsman on a green field. _House Tarly_.

Harry coughed loudly. "You address a Queen, boy. Show proper respect." He said, his voice rough and a scowl marring his features.

"F-Forgive me, Your G-Grace." He looked flustered, his hazel eyes darting from her to Harry and back to her.

Sansa smiled, trying to ease his embarrassment. "It's alright. And you must forgive Ser Harrold here, for calling you boy." She turned briefly to give the Vale lord a disapproving glance, before turning back to him. "You are Dickon Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill, are you not?" She asked, remembering her uncle's letter.

Dickon Tarly and a company of two thousand knights had arrived at Riverrun, seeking shelter from a dragon attack at Harrenhal. Her heart had raced at that part of the letter, hoping that Jon was alright and the dragon queen hadn't gone mad, but as she continued reading, the tale became worse. Euron Greyjoy had somehow acquired a dragon, deciding to burn anyone foolish enough to get in his way. _And that apparently includes everyone._

"I suppose I am…" He replied, his voice growing weaker. "Now that my father…" His eyes became dull, as he cast his head down in a defeated stance.

"There's no need to explain, my lord." She said, in what she hoped was a kind voice. _He watched his own father being burned alive, he doesn't need to relive that._ "The North welcomes you. We're a bit crowded at the moment with all the visitors from the Vale, but I made sure the household staff had rooms prepared for you. I'm sure you could use some rest." She made a gesture, and a servant came to lead him away.

Before leaving, he bowed low again. "Thank you, my Queen."

After he was beyond earshot, Harry said, "What an oaf. He could barely put three words together."

"He's still in pain. Watching your own father die isn't something one can easily forget." _Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!_ Sansa would never forget what she saw in front of the Sept of Baelor so many years ago in King's Landing.

"_Sansa!" _Arya's voice called out to her. Turning to look, she spotted her sister across the courtyard,_ and this time she's wearing her own face, _holding a piece of parchment in her hand, waving it over.

"Excuse me, Harry." She said, leaving the man standing there.

When she came closer, Arya explained, "A raven came from Dragonstone."

_Jon finally remembered to send word!_ She was happy at the thought, but looking at her sister's hard expression made her pause. "Something wrong?"

"Yes. Very much so." Arya said gravely, handing over the letter.

Reading quickly, the crease on her forehead turned into a frown, which then turned into a scowl. "He can't be serious…" She tried to see if the letter was forged, or if maybe Jon didn't write it._ No, it's definitely his handwriting._ Resisting the urge to crumple the letter in her hands, she took a deep breath to try and calm down.

_This is the dumbest thing he's ever done. How could he think this is a good idea?_

"Jon was never one for jests, Sansa." Arya seemed just as angry as her, if not more so. "This is serious. We're going to have a new sister soon." She added, her voice bitter.

Sansa felt her stomach lurch at the thought of ever calling that woman_ sister,_ or even the notion that they might become part of the same family, but there was no escaping it… If the letter was true...

_Jon Snow is going to marry Cersei Lannister._

* * *

**That last interchange is exactly the reason why I loved the Cersei/Jon idea. It's just so interesting to imagine how this is going to work. I have to write/read that. **

**In other news, here's Dickon Tarly and Harrold Hardyng. I was tempted to leave Sansa without pairing, but I couldn't resist.**

**03/07/2019**


	34. Greetings and Goodbyes

**Jon leaves Dragonstone just as an old friend arrives.**

**Next chapter on Tuesday. Enjoy.**

* * *

**34\. Greetings and Goodbyes - Jon**

A knight named Jorah Mormont arrived on the same day Jon was going to leave Dragonstone in search of the horn. _Dany sure seems happy to see him, _he mused, remembering her face as she looked at the man. _Good,_ _she needs more friends._ Sometimes, with the way she had been staring at him recently, it often seemed as if she had no one else in the world. Jon would always be there for her, but his mind was too busy worrying about Yara.

_We haven't spoken in two days._

Walking along the beach to clear his head, Jon spotted Ser Davos barking orders at a few workers, men carrying pickaxes and crates filled with shards of a crystalline greenish-dark mineral. The old knight was by the entrance of a cave, the rocky cliff side breaking open to reveal a massive fissure along the path. _The dragonglass mine._ He had been there only once before, to make sure how much they could gather, and he wasn't surprised when Sam was proven right. _That's all the dragonglass we'll ever need._

"I figured you'd be at the harbor by now, boarding the ship." Davos said, when Jon approached. "Won't you be leaving soon?"

Jon nodded. "Aye, but I wanted to see how things are progressing here. This was the main reason we came in the first place, after all." He hardly believed his own words. _So much has happened in __less than a week__ on this island, and I'm about to leave again._

"It's a bit slow, to be honest." The man said, scratching his grizzled beard. "The thing is too brittle, and it shatters easily when the lads hit it with too much force. We won't get many big chunks out of it, that's for sure."

"It's probably for the best." Jon replied, thinking of how to face so many enemies at once. "Arrowheads and spear tips should be our priority. Anything bigger than that would be a waste. But if you do manage to get a few chunks, keep them as they are. We can always break them later." Just because he didn't see the need now, it didn't mean he couldn't be wrong later. _We have to consider all options._

Davos nodded, yet there was a worried expression on his face. "You look a bit tired, if I may say so." He said in a softer tone, his eyes going over Jon's entire frame.

He chuckled lightly. "You may always say what you will to me, Davos." _I need someone who doesn't treat me as a Prince. _He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose I haven't been sleeping well these past few days. Something's been troubling me lately."

The old knight had a knowing look. "And if I were to guess, it's about a certain captain."

"She seems… angry with me, but I haven't had the chance to find out why yet." Jon couldn't find out, because she wouldn't even speak to him. "I just wish she'd talk to me…"

"Women often respond more to actions than words." Davos offered, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know enough about Lady Yara to help, but when my own wife is upset-"

"_You have a wife?_" Jon interrupted, his voice a bit higher than usual. "Sorry, it's just… You don't talk about her all that much." He wondered why, though it seemed wrong to ask.

A smile broke from his lips, as the man said, "True, I haven't been very forthcoming about my life, but I suppose it simply never came up in conversation before." His features grew brighter, and his eyes stared off at the distance, as if he could see something far away. "My dear Marya is the best woman a man like me could ever hope to find, and she deserves a far better husband than I ever was to her. She holds Cape Wrath for me, and tends to my two young boys." His voice was raw with passion, as he raised a hand to his heart, almost involuntarily.

_I wonder if I'll ever say that about my future wife,_ Jon thought bitterly. It was unlikely he would ever grow to love Cersei Lannister. _Or that she would love me._ But he knew that marriages weren't based on love. They were just a way to seal alliances, or to join Houses together, or to prevent wars. _If the Targaryens had married into different families, __instead of marrying brother to sister,__ they wouldn't have faced such a strong rebellion._

"As I was saying," Davos continued, "when my wife is upset I try to show her just how important she is to me. Not with words, because if you don't know the reason, you might say something to make it worse."

_That's good advice, but there was one problem._ "Yara isn't my wife." Jon said, and as soon as the words left his lips, the fog that had been clouding his mind finally cleared. _Is that the reason?_ "She wanted to marry me..." His eyes went wide at the revelation, and his mouth was left hanging open.

_It makes sense, _since she was only upset after they started talking about Cersei's offer. She seemed fine before that, _even more caring than usual,_ to be honest. _But Yara doesn't even fancy men as much as she fancies women… _Jon knew she had enjoyed their nights together, but when they were with Dany, the difference was night and day.

_She prefers women, but that doesn't mean she can marry one. _

"I have to go." Jon said abruptly. Turning to leave, he paused to look back. "Thank you, Davos. I'll come back to hear about your family someday." _What are his son's names? How are they like? _He felt a bit ashamed that he knew so little about this man, who had become so important in his life. _I wouldn't be here if not for him._

The old knight chuckled. "Anytime, my Prince."

* * *

The harbor of Dragonstone was crowded. Sailors and servants carrying provisions for the journey moved to and from all the ships aligned at the docks, their expressions worried. Looking up at the sky, Jon understood why.

A dark, heavy cloud was buzzing with lightning along the southern edge of the horizon, telling everyone who could see that a great storm was coming. _That's our destination, _if he remembered the maps he had been studying since the council meeting. As it turned out, _an inlet between the Isle of Tarth and Massey's Hook,_ wasn't such an accurate heading as he had initially imagined.

_Maybe Bran can help, _he hoped, looking for a raven with white eyes.

"My Prince!" Tyrion's voice called him. The man waddled over, carrying a big metal cage with a raven locked inside. _B__lack eyes,_ Jon noted. "Here is your guest of honor."

Tyrion had arranged for a raven to be carried on the _Black Wind_, with instructions to send it back to Dragonstone when they had secured possession of the horn, so the next part of their plan could be set into motion.

Taking the cage into his hands, Jon said, "Hopefully, it won't be long until we find it. Once we're past Stonedance, the inlet should be easier to find. And if not, thirteen ships won't be hard to spot. We'll be there and back before you know it." The seat of House Massey was rather close to Dragonstone, almost at the tip of the peninsula, a ways south of Sharp Point.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows, probably impressed by his confidence. "Actually, after speaking to the Queen, we've decided that you and Lady Yara should head straight to King's Landing after you find the horn. We'll be there ourselves, trying to keep Euron occupied."

"I suppose it saves time." Jon considered, before asking, "Where do we meet?"

"The Dragonpit." Tyrion answered, scratching his beard. "Euron wanted a place where he could land Rhaegal. And our Queen will bring both Drogon and Viserion too. I'm not quite sure what Cersei is up to, but Varys says there are reports that she had big dragon-killing weapons mounted on the walls, so we'll need to be careful."

_What could possibly kill a dragon?_ Jon hoped he would never find out. _We'll need them against the Army of the Dead._ Yet even without that threat, he held a deep affection for them. _Gorgeous beasts._ The world needed more wonders like them, and the direwolves in the North. They were dangerous, sure, but every animal could be dangerous. _Even men. _He paused. _Especially men._

They walked along the docks to find Dany standing next to a tall middle-aged man, his brown hair fading away at the top, but his features still fair enough to fool people into thinking he was much younger. Wearing a dark green tunic displaying the standing black bear of House Mormont, the man stood out in the crowd.

"Prince Aegon, I believe you've met Ser Jorah Mormont?" Dany introduced them when he approached. "He's been with me since the beginning, even before my children were born, and back when my brother was still alive."

_Viserys._ Jon didn't know much about his uncle, but if what Dany said was true, the man had been a cruel brother. Having two sisters himself, he couldn't imagine ever being cruel to either of them. _Even Sansa._ Despite not treating him as well as her other brothers, Sansa would often show compassion when he needed it most. _Why would any brother be cruel to his sister?_

Jon nodded, turning to face the knight. "I'm glad Dany had someone she could trust. The way she tells it, that wasn't a very happy time for her."

Suddenly, the mood shifted. Ser Jorah looked uncomfortable, trying not to look at Dany, who seemed lost in thought. He turned to see Tyrion raise his eyebrows, shaking his head discreetly. _I'm missing something here. Let's change the subject._

"I knew your father, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. A great man." He said, putting the cage down and taking _Longclaw_ from his belt to present it. "He gave me this sword for saving his life. I offered to return it to your cousin Lyanna, but she let me borrow it until the war is over."

The man nodded, his features brightening slightly. "At least he found someone worthy to carry it. I lost my rights to _Longclaw_ when I brought shame to my House. Hopefully, my cousin can grow strong enough to wield it. A bastard sword is difficult to master, being heavier."

Jon hadn't considered that. He had been with _Longclaw_ for so long, it almost felt like an extension of his arm sometimes. _And I'm no master._

"Now that you've mentioned it, what about that other sword on your belt?" Tyrion asked, pointing at the smaller blade still strapped to his waist. "You were so keen on keeping them both when you arrived, that it must also be important to you."

He smiled, taking the other blade in his hands to show them. "This… is _Dark Sister._"

Dany gasped. "You mean, Visenya's _Dark Sister?_" He nodded, and she said, "But it's been lost for ages… How did you get it?"

"Lord Howland Reed had it." Jon answered, as he admired the slender blade. Flame designs on the pommel made it look perpetually on fire, while the rubies on the cross guard shone like eyes, ready to blind anyone who dared to gaze for too long. "He said Rhaegar had left it with my mother, as a gift to me. I'm not sure how your brother got it, though." He added, looking at Dany, who still seemed awed.

Scratching his bearded chin, Tyrion said, "If my memory serves, the last known wielder was Ser Brynden Rivers, also known as Bloodraven, who was sent to the Night's Watch by King Aegon V. The man rose to become Lord Commander, but vanished beyond the Wall some time after that."

Jon frowned, casting his memory for some explanation. "The only Targaryen I ever saw in Castle Black was maester Aemon..."

"You knew Aemon Targaryen?" Dany's eyes went wide. "He would've been ancient."

"Aye, he was over a hundred years old when I met him." His face brightened into a smile. "Still the wisest man I ever saw, his mind was as sharp as any young recruit, if not more so. I could write a book with all the clever things he told me, but that's unnecessary, since I'll always remember his every word."

_Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty,_ the old maester had once said, when Jon wanted to leave the Night's Watch and help Robb in the war. _We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy._

"Just when I thought I couldn't be more jealous of you…" Dany said, her words undercut by a kind smile. "I hope you'll tell me all about him when you return. I want to know everything you remember."

Jon bowed low. "As you wish, Your Grace." He said, in the most formal tone he could muster, trying hard to look serious.

"I asked you to call me Dany." She narrowed her eyes, grinning. "Do I need to command you to do it?"

He couldn't keep a straight face and barked a laugh. "It defeats the purpose, doesn't it? If you have to order someone to do that…" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "But yes, Dany, I'll tell you all about maester Aemon when I return." Then he paused, remembering the plan. "Or when we meet in King's Landing, I suppose. Be careful out there. I heard about Cersei's weapons."

She nodded, her expression grave. "I know… It's unlikely she would risk attacking my children, but it's a risk we have to take. We need to end this war so we can focus on the North." She had a determined look on her face.

Jon felt a smile breaking from his lips. _I knew I was right to trust her._

"Why are you smiling?" She asked, puzzled.

"Nothing, it's just…" He started, trying to find a nice way to voice his thoughts. "Before I left Winterfell, I heard terrible tales about the fearsome dragon queen, who burned men alive to eat their hearts. Enough to make me a little scared, to be honest." He confessed, avoiding her eyes. "After meeting you, however, I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe you are fearsome to your enemies, as any ruler should be, but there's something about you that draws people in… A fire, burning so brightly that we can all see when we look at you." His eyes met hers, the amethyst gems sparkling back at him. "I think you'll be a good Queen."

Dany stood there gaping at him for a long time, before she finally blinked and cleared her throat. "Th-Thank you…" She cleared her throat again. "I know you wouldn't say it if you didn't mean it. And it means the world to me." Then she frowned, putting a hand on her chin. "But I'll admit those are interesting rumors… The only heart I ever ate was the raw stallion's heart those old crones forced down my throat. Perhaps the tale grew from that." She shrugged.

"You ate a raw stallion's heart?" Jon asked, amazed. "Now I'm jealous."

She huffed, shaking her head. "You shouldn't be. It was disgusting." _Still impressive._

Tyrion coughed lightly, startling Jon. _I forgot they were here._ "I believe Lady Yara is waving you over, my Prince. The ships are ready to set sail."

Jon turned to see that he was right. Aboard the _Black Wind, _Yara was looking at him with a scowl on her face, High Priestess Kinvara standing by her side, watching with attention. Most of the other nineteen ships were already well away from the harbor, their sails flapping in the wind as they headed south.

"I have to go." He said, moving to shake the hands of Tyrion and Ser Jorah.

Dany caught him in a hug, squeezing so tightly it hurt a little. "You be careful too." She whispered in his ear. "A Queen needs her Prince."

* * *

**I finally got to drop the title in a chapter! Gorgeous Beasts, indeed. **

**I was going to add more here, but I decided to put it in the next chapter. By the way, it's going to be a Yara POV. I think it's important to give us some insight into her mind.**

**06/07/2019**


	35. Iron Woman

**Yara finally resolves her issues with Jon, as they hunt for the horn. **

**Another sea battle, but I promise it's the last one. **

**Next chapter on Friday. Enjoy.**

* * *

**35\. Iron Woman - Yara**

Yara couldn't escape him. During the day, he would constantly try to talk to her. _You can't __ignore__ me forever,_ he would say, while she remained silent. But that was the easy part, when she didn't have to look at those grey eyes at all. The nights were worse.

He would visit her dreams every night, and every night she would lose herself with him. His touch, his scent, his taste… She devoured him whole, lapping up every last drop, always hungry for more. And he would scream her name, and tell her he loved her and only her.

Sometimes they would just hold each other. Those were her favorite dreams, when she just lay there, staring into his eyes. And he smiled back at her, a smile that made her believe in a different future than she had planned. A future with little dark-haired children running along their bed, merrily playing with their uncle Theon, who would always let them win, laughing in defeat.

_He's just a man,_ Yara would try to reason with herself, _I don't even fancy men all that much. _She didn't know why this man should be any different._ I'll take a wet pussy over a hard cock any day. _What she really needed was a good time away from everything. _I should stop by Lys __after this horn business__._ When the fool married the lion bitch, she would rather be naked in the arms of a beautiful Lyseni bed slave. _Or two. __Or three._

One day, during one of her better dreams, Yara woke up much earlier than usual. Looking outside, she could tell the sun wouldn't be up for a good two hours. _Fuck it, I'm up already_, she thought, getting dressed to leave her cabin.

When she neared the main deck, a familiar voice made her pause. "Could you teach me to speak High Valyrian?" Yara would recognise that voice anywhere. _He must be talking to that Red Woman_, since nobody else in the ship could speak that language. She stopped to listen in.

"I could… Though I fail to see why you'd need to learn much, my Prince." _That's her alright._

"Almost half the Queen's army speaks it. If I can't even talk to them, how can I expect to earn their respect?" _That's a good point,_ she admitted, thinking of how Euron's _Silence_ was rumored to be crewed by mutes. _Euron doesn't __want__ respect, he __craves__ fear._

"You are a dragon, my Prince. They should respect you for that alone. The only word you need is _Dracarys_."

"_Dracarys?_"

"It means dragon fire. Remember that, if someone should treat you poorly. Fire heals all wounds."

"What if I treated someone poorly? Someone who won't even talk to me anymore… Would fire heal that too?" She couldn't remember hearing such a sad tone to his voice. Yara held her breath, trying hard not to make a sound.

"You're worried about the rude captain. If you want my advice-"

"On second thought, I don't." He tried to interrupt.

"You must forget about her." The woman continued, as if he hadn't said anything. "It won't end well. Should you follow her lead and start ignoring her too, perhaps the future I saw in the flames won't come to pass." _What future?_

Yara had enough of this red bitch meddling in her affairs. She finally made her presence known, walking all the way to where she spotted them together, near the prow of the ship. "Isn't it a bit too early for prayer, Priestess? Why don't you go pretend to sleep now?"

Kinvara smiled, nodding slightly. "Of course. I'll give you two some time to… _talk._"

She watched the woman walk away, her robes leaving a red trail behind her.

"Yara?" His voice made her head snap back a bit too quickly, as she turned to face him. "I'm sorry."

"You don't even know what you're sorry about." She said, massaging her neck.

"Actually, I've had a lot of time to think in these past days." He paused, scratching his bearded chin. "Nights, really. I haven't been sleeping well."

She huffed. "If you just need someone to warm your bed, go ask that red bitch."

"I miss more than just your body, Yara." He protested, coming closer. She resisted the urge to jump him right then and there._ I do miss his body. Dreams are a poor substitute for the real thing._ "But you didn't let me finish. After all that time thinking, I feel like I owe you an apology for not explaining my decision to marry Cersei."

Yara swallowed the lump in her throat. "You don't owe me anything." She tried to avoid his eyes, turning to look at the dark cloud on the horizon. _We'll have to head into that storm eventually. _"I said, didn't I? We were just having fun… Now the fun's over." She shrugged.

"Then why are you so angry?" His voice sounded even closer. Turning back, she almost hit his nose, as his face was near enough to feel his hot breath on her skin.

Her eyes briefly lingered on his lips, before she shoved him back, hard. "_I don't know!_" She almost shouted, watching him stumble and fall on the deck. "All I know is that when you agreed to marry that lion bitch, I felt sick. Like a hand was reaching into my chest to choke me, and I couldn't breathe, or talk, or anything…" The memory still stung. _After that, all I heard was noise until the Queen clapped._ "I was drowning, and it was your hand keeping me under. I've never felt that way before." She followed the Drowned God, but she didn't believe everything her uncle Aeron preached. _Sometimes, what is dead may die and not rise again._

"I have…" He said, slowly getting back up, leaning on the gunwale for support. "But when it happened to me, I couldn't talk to her again. I couldn't even see her again… Because she was dead." Standing up, he stared into her eyes. "I'm still right here, Yara. Marrying Cersei won't kill me."

"It might." She quickly replied, feeling a tightness in her chest. _What happened to me?_ _Going weak in the knees just because some stupid prince might die._ "Why do you have to marry her anyway? That's just dumb, and you know it. There are lots of ways to end the war without doing something so…"

_Frustrating._ If he married the lion bitch, he couldn't… He could never… _Marry me? Is that what I want? To be stuck __with__ some man forever and ever?_ A man who knew how to use his tongue better than most women. A man who didn't mind that she preferred women. A man who refused to fuck the dragon queen, even when the woman was begging for it. A man who only thought to please her. She remembered the dream again, and her heart hammered in her chest. _I wouldn't be stuck with him. With him, I'd be happy._

He was shaking his head. "You saw how angry Dany was. She was ready to take Drogon to King's Landing and burn the place down."

"So?" She raised her hands over her head, uncaring. "Let her. Those fuckers are still following Cersei even after she burned down the Sept of Baelor. If that had happened in Pyke, they'd gut the miserable shit within days… People so weak as to accept some murdering psycho as their queen shouldn't be allowed to choose again." As the words left her lips, she noticed the irony. _Euron is an even greater psycho, and he was chosen at the Kingsmoot.__ I guess Ironborn are just as weak._

"Fear can be a powerful motivation." His voice was quiet and his eyes unfocused. "My greatest fear is that all this effort, all this sacrifice will be for nothing. That when the enemy comes, we'll all be dead already. Or too busy trying to kill each other." Then he blinked and turned to look at her, grey eyes shining like gems. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Yara. But we need peace. We need to show everyone we can put aside our differences to work together. Marrying Cersei is the best way I know to do that without more people dying for no reason." He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. "I hope you can forgive me someday. Until then, I won't force you to see me again. Goodbye." And he started walking away, shoulders slumped.

Watching him leave, Yara felt that hand in her chest again, choking her, taking her breath away. _I __have to do something._

"_Wait!_" She called, making him turn around. "You can come into my bed at night." His eyes went wide at the implication, but she explained, "_To sleep._ Only sleep. There will be no fucking, or licking, or anything in between." She avoided his eyes, trying to come up with some excuse, and the dark cloud came into view. "You'll be of no use to me if you're tired all the time, and if that's any indication," Her hand shot up to point at the distance, "we're likely to fight during a storm."

His head turned to briefly look at the approaching darkness, before turning back to her. "Thank you. I'll see you tonight." There was a hint of a smile on his face. _The bastard's probably hoping I'll change my mind… __Let's see who breaks first._

The rest of the day was uneventful, as they left Sharp Point behind to approach Stonedance. When night arrived and her eyelids grew heavier, she left for her cabin. Removing her armor and the rest of her clothes, she rummaged through her things to find a grey linen shift, letting it fall over her head to cover her body. Moving to a mirror, she busied herself trying to check how it looked. _I usually sleep naked, so I don't know if this __is_ _any __good._

After a while, there was a knock on her door. "Yara?" He called.

"Come in." She said, moving to lie down in bed.

The door opened and he was there, staring at her in surprise. "You usually sleep naked." He said, closing the door behind him.

She grinned. "As much as I'd love to give you a nice view, I meant what I said earlier. We'll just be sleeping together, not… _sleeping together._" He nodded, starting to remove his armor, and she teased, "Of course, if you want to sleep naked… I wouldn't mind the view."

"No, that's fine." He smiled, as he stripped down to his smallclothes, leaving only his scarred chest exposed. "May I?" He asked, stopping near the bed.

Yara shifted the furs, opening up a way in. "Come on, don't make this more awkward than it has to be. Just get in here and let's go to sleep."

He joined her in bed, covering himself with the furs, and said, "Goodnight, Yara."

"Goodnight, Prince." She replied, turning around to avoid looking at him.

Sleep didn't come for a long time, so long that she was still awake when the sound of his deep, heavy breaths told her he was already asleep. Yara turned back to take a peek. His face was as calm as the sea, and a faint smile graced his lips. _He slept facing me… _She made herself comfortable on the pillow and kept her eyes fixed on him, making sure this wasn't a dream. Eventually, it became harder to keep them open, as her lids grew heavier and heavier…

Yara woke up several hours later, her mind confused as to whether she was still dreaming or not, since his face was right there in front of her. Looking around at the rays of light sneaking into the room from outside, she figured it was the right time to wake up. But she decided to stay in bed, watching him.

_He's as pretty as a woman, maybe that's why I… _

His eyes opened, blinking slowly. They stared at each other for a long time, the grey growing bigger and bigger, before she realised her head was inching towards him. Yara blinked and stopped herself, pulling her head back. _No sex_, she told herself,_ I should be able to control myself._

"How… how did you sleep?" She asked, trying to cool down.

"Well." He replied, smiling. "Better than I've slept in a good while. Ever since…" His eyes trailed down her body, before going back to her face. "I really needed… _this_." She noticed the hesitation on the last word. _Could he mean… _

"_This…_ will always be here for you. I hope you know that." Yara tried to make her meaning clear.

He moved a hand and placed it on her cheek, making her close her eyes for a moment. She put her hand over his, afraid he might take it away. _I've missed… this._

* * *

They slept together every night after that, and every night her feelings for him grew stronger. Yara missed the sex,_ of course,_ but there was something far more intimate about just lying together, staring into each other's eyes until they slept. She had never done that before, not with any man or woman, not without sex being involved in some way. _This isn't working at all, I'm just making it harder for m__yself__ when he gets married to the lion bitch._

One night, when she was feeling bold after drinking some ale, she asked, "What if we run away?"

"What?" He replied, confused.

"What if we forget all this? The horn, the dragons, the dead… We could take the _Black Wind_ and sail for someplace quiet, to wait out the storm." Yara's voice gained confidence as she spoke, "Have you ever been to Lys?"

"I can't say I have. What's it like?"

Her eyes lit up. _Maybe I can convince him._ "Oh, it's a lovely place. Some people call it a paradise, and they aren't that far off. The sunny island is filled with palm trees and juicy fruits, its blue-green waters hold all manner of fish you can possibly dream. And the people…" She briefly closed her eyes trying to recall some of them. "You won't find any place more crowded by beautiful people than Lys. They say the old Valyrians used to go there to find wives or lovers, so their blood became mixed, and almost everyone now has those purple eyes and silver-gold hair, just like the Queen." She licked her lips. "Imagine what we did to her, only every day and with a different person each time. We'd never get bored."

He was quiet for a long time, probably trying to picture it in his head.

_Come on… Please… Don't make me beg… _

Then he sighed, slowly shaking his head. "That sure sounds nice, Yara. I hope I get to visit there someday, but I can't just run away now. We can't. It wouldn't be right. We might survive, but what's the point if everyone else is dead?" He asked, staring at her.

_I don't care, _she wanted to say. If they took Theon, she would be fine with leaving everyone else to die. _But he has family at Winterfell. And the Queen is his family too,_ she admitted,_ even if the woman was clearly hungry for some princely cock._ Yara could share him with her Queen, but she doubted the lion bitch would be as willing.

She let it go. "You're right, of course. Maybe I'll take you there, once everything is quieter."

_Or maybe I'll kill the lion bitch._ Yara had been thinking about it for a while now, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He might be upset, but he wouldn't mourn the vile woman for long. _Who would?_

_Yes,_ she made up her mind, _once Euron is dealt with, I'll kill her._

"I'd like that." He said, drifting off to sleep.

* * *

On the sixth day of their voyage, they found the ships. Galleys, longships, cogs, and all manner of vessels bunched up in a tight formation around an inlet south of Stonedance. By then, the storm was raging all around them, water falling in huge drops and thunder crackling so loudly as to make a woman lose her hearing. The sun was about to set, but the darkness made it seem like the hour of the wolf was already upon them, since the only natural light came from the buzzing streaks of lightning crisscrossing the clouds.

"_Alright, boys!" _She shouted, to be heard over the noise. "The horn is all that matters! We just need to find the right ship and take it." _But how, though?_ Even with better visibility, finding that horn would be a challenge.

The Prince seemed to read her mind. _"Follow that raven!"_ He screamed, pointing at a moving black dot between the two fleets, almost invisible against the darkness.

She knew better than to waste time questioning him. Turning to the helmsman, she said, "Dagon, you heard the Prince. Keep an eye on that raven!"_ If you can._

As they neared their destination, she spotted the raven flying further and further into the inlet, then it finally landed on the mast of a massive ship. It was the biggest vessel of the bunch, a great lumbering cog, with rounded prow and stern, fit for little more than transportation. _That should make it easier,_ she thought, before seeing their formation grow tighter and circle around the great ship.

"_Let's make a path!_ _Ramming speed!" _Yara braced herself for impact, keeping an eye on the prize. Her ship gained speed, moving faster and faster, as the enemy sent cannonballs flying past. The prow took a heavy beating, but they were moving too fast to stop, until…

_CRASH!_

The _Black Wind_ ran into the portside of a smaller galley, nearly breaking it apart. Looking around, she spotted her other ships following suit, as the _Tiny Dancer, _the _Sparrowfeather,_ and the _Wingless Bird_ also crashed into other ships. Those were her fastest, only slightly slower than her own, so they had the pleasure of breaking their maidens before the others had the chance to join the fun. The sound of wood breaking and sailors screaming fell on deaf ears, since the rain made it almost impossible to hear anything. Only the cannonfire was loud enough to be heard over the din, her other ships already sinking four vessels in the first volley. _They weren't expecting us._

"_Don't stop now!"_ She commanded, pointing ahead at the great cog. "Let the others deal with the stragglers, we'll go for the horn!" A lightning bolt fell when she finished, casting the ships in a bright shade of white for a brief second, before everything turned back to black.

When they neared the prize, she grabbed her Prince's arm, leaning into his ear, "Listen, these are Ironmen we'll be fighting. You've only faced those weak pirates near the Fingers, and those pricks never wear armor. Ironmen are different. Be careful." She couldn't remember how well he fought, as she had been busy fighting herself, but she knew men often got a big head after a victory, no matter how small. _Overconfidence can be more dangerous than fear._

He grinned, his wet hair falling in front of his face, the dark locks framing his eyes. "Don't worry about me, captain. I can handle myself." He said, drawing his swords to get ready. Yara had the urge to roll her eyes. _Overconfidence it is._ She would have to keep an eye on him.

Soon enough, their hooks were firmly placed on the gunwale of the lumbering cog, and they were ready to board the great beast. Theon would stay on the_ Black Wind_, keeping an eye on the rest of the battle while she led the charge. With the Prince to her right and Qarl to her left, she searched the deck, trying to see where the blasted horn could be. A thrown axe took Qarl in the leg, and the great oaf fell on the wet deck, moaning. Yara shifted her body to throw one of her own axes back at the attacker, landing it squarely on his head, bringing the man down.

Her Prince was already in the thick of it, taking down two men at a time with precise strikes. _He's good,_ she admired, before a whizzing sound made her duck just in time to avoid another thrown axe. The blood was hot in her veins, and she ran to face the coward. A monstrous man with a shaved head and a tattooed chest was smiling at her, almost daring her to fight. _Let's dance, then._ She twirled her dirk in one hand while she threw an axe with the other, hoping to catch him unawares. It almost worked, but the man sidestepped in time to only take it in his shoulder._ The idiot should've worn armor. _Yara used the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, hearing a crack as the man yelled in pain. Her dirk pierced his eye in a smooth motion, and he dropped dead at her feet.

Turning around, she spotted her Prince surrounded by four heavily armored men, their steel glinting against the darkness. _Fuck, I knew it!_ She cursed herself for being distracted and ran towards him, only noticing the massive horn behind him when she came closer. He took one down with a stab in a weak spot on the shoulder, and another with a well placed sweep to the leg, but he slipped on the wet deck and a tall beast of a man managed to catch him on the left arm, the heavy axe proving too much for his slender blade to stop, sending his blood spurting all over the horn and coating it in red. She almost felt the pain herself when he screamed, dropping the glittering ruby blade.

_Damn, that stupid prince… Please be alright… _

Yara gripped her dirk tightly, ramming into the shorter man while she stabbed the tall one in the back of his exposed thigh, making him double over in pain, dropping the heavy axe. She lifted his steel helmet and quickly slit his throat, turning to finish the shorter man, who was still trying to get back up. Sheathing the dirk, she picked up the axe._ Too heavy for me, but I'll only need one good hit. _Lifting the thing with both hands, she brought it down on his head with all her strength, caving the helmet into his skull in a loud _CRACK!_ She quickly made sure they were all dead, before tuning to find her Prince.

Going to his side on her knees, she could tell it was bad. He was leaning on the massive horn, his left arm a ruin of red blood and brown leather._ Without that blade, he probably would've lost the whole arm. _She ripped his sleeve to see the injury, and the sight almost made her sick. A huge gash ran from his elbow to his wrist, blood oozing from the opening. Looking at his face, all color seemed drained, and only a pale pasty white remained. _I can't let him die, _she thought, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

"Yara… I found the… horn." He said in a weak voice, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. _Stupid idiot, why didn't you wait for help?_

"Shut up, you bastard. Don't talk, just…" She ripped a bit of leather to turn it into a strap, binding his left arm above the elbow to see if the blood stopped flowing, but it did little good. _We should've brought a maester. He'll die if I can't… _Her eyes started to sting and she blinked, _I can't…_ tears fell on her cheeks, _I can't…_ the salty streaks mingling with the rainwater.

_I can't lose him._

"Let me see." A strong familiar voice made her look up. _Kinvara._ The red woman knelt down to grab his arm, then put both hands over the ugly gash, muttering unfamiliar words. _Probably High Valyrian, _Yara figured, feeling an intense heat coming from the woman's hands, the falling rain becoming mist around the arm, while the ruby on her neck grew brighter and brighter, almost blindingly so. After a short while, she removed her hands and the gash was gone. _Thank the gods…_ Yara was about to say something, when the woman moved to stand up, wiping her hands on her robes. "The bleeding has stopped, but the poison shall claim his life in a few days."

"_Poison?"_ Yara turned to look at the heavy axe again. Now she could almost see a faint green sheen on the edge. _Those fuckers… Euron must have coated all of their blades with poison._

"Worry not, captain. I can save the Prince." The High Priestess spoke with confidence, her red eyes shining. "I shall require a blade. Silver would be best, but iron will serve. A brazier too, for we'll need fire, but I have that in my cabin. Just bring me the blade. There will be pain, however." The woman warned, "A great deal of pain. Such torment that he might wish for the release of death, but the poison shall leave his blood. This I vow."

Yara looked from her to him. His face seemed to have gained some color, but his breaths were coming with difficulty. "Do it. Save him." She said, nodding. _"Please."_

"Very well." The woman clapped, and two muscular slave soldiers walked forward. They easily lifted her Prince, carrying him with them.

Following them, Yara stopped along the way to ask for a silver blade. Only Tristifer Botley had it, an old heirloom from his father's reaving days. She reached the door to the red woman's cabin just as the slave solders were leaving, and the Priestess raised a hand to halt her.

"The ritual is quite long, captain." Kinvara said, her voice not unkind. "And you might see things you'll wish you hadn't. Perhaps it would be best for you to wait outside until it's over."

Yara just stared at her, pushing the silver blade into her hand. "I won't leave his side." _And I don't trust you._

The Priestess nodded, leading her inside. She was immediately blown by the heat. _It's a furnace in here. _Her eyes glanced over the many instruments and flasks scattered around the room, but when they landed on him, nothing else mattered. He was lying over a narrow table, naked from the torso up, his arms falling to either side. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was uneven. Yara went to his side, holding on to his right hand. _Don't you dare leave me, bastard._

Kinvara locked the door behind her. "Let us begin."

* * *

**For some strange reason, I enjoyed coming up with ship names. In fact, I was tempted to name all twenty (or nineteen, since the Black Wind is there), but I couldn't find a good reason for Yara to think about all of them.**

** Also, I'll need to make these Red Priests more fallible, since they can't always be right about everything. By the way, this ritual is similar to what happened to Victarion in the books. At least that's the inspiration.  
**

**Finally, I'm thinking of another story focusing on Jon/Yara, since they're so fun to write. It'd be much shorter, though. I'll think about it.**

**09/07/2019**


	36. New Faces

**Arya wants to solve another problem, but she has problems of her own.**

**Next chapter on Monday. Enjoy.**

* * *

**36\. New Faces - Arya**

"I can do it." Arya said confidently. How hard could it be? _A__fter training with Syrio Forel, __I know the Red Keep better than most._

Sansa started shaking her head. _Again._ "I'm sure you could, but perhaps we should trust that Jon knows what he's doing. He wouldn't have agreed to this marriage without first considering other options." Her voice sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

They had been having the same conversation ever since that cursed letter arrived several days ago. Arya wanted to go down to King's Landing and kill Cersei before Jon made the biggest mistake of his life, while Sansa was happy to simply wait for more information. _If we wait much longer, it will be too late._

"He might be desperate." Arya offered, unwilling to give up. "Maybe Jon thinks he has no other option. This Euron Greyjoy is a menace to the entire realm, if what your new boyfriend says is true."

She had seen her sister and the young Reach lord walking together along the grounds of Winterfell more than once in the past few days. _They do look good together, _she admitted, since the man was actually tall enough to make her Queen have to look up to face him. _At least he's better than that pretty boy._

Sansa's cheeks flushed pink. "Dickon isn't my-" She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Lord Tarly is our guest here, and he doesn't know the North. I was just showing him around the castle, that's all. We need to treat him with respect." _The Queen protests too much,_ Arya thought, considering she hadn't treated any other guest with the same _respect._

But she continued, "And we don't know what Jon thinks, only what he wrote in the letter. Beyond the marriage, he seemed hopeful that we might finally have a chance now that he's managed to convince Daenerys about the dragonglass. And the woman trusts him enough to name him Prince of Dragonstone, so I doubt he's that desperate."

"Wine, Your Grace?" A white-haired servant approached them with a pitcher, moving slowly. Arya narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but Sansa smiled at the older woman.

"Thank you, Jonquil, but I'd rather keep a clear head today."

"Are you sure, my Queen?" The woman insisted, "This vintage is especially fine, If I may say so."

"I'm sure it is. Yet again, I must decline." Sansa replied, patiently. "Perhaps another time."

"How about you, Princess Arya?"

_Princess? _She didn't like the sound of that. "No, thank you." Her voice made it clear she didn't want to be asked twice.

The woman, Jonquil, nodded and finally walked away from the main table.

"What's this about me being a Princess?" Arya rounded on her sister, with a scowl on her face. "I didn't agree to that."

Sansa had the nerve to smile. "Well, I figured you being my heir is a better compromise with the northern lords. They didn't accept Jon as king, so I doubt they would take kindly to him still being Prince of Winterfell, especially not after the dragon queen claimed him as hers."

"What about Bran? If you need a Prince so badly, go ask him."

"You know Bran isn't Bran anymore, Arya." The smile turned to a grimace. "I know it's hard sometimes, to look at our brother's eyes and see someone else in there, but the Three-eyed Raven can't be the ruler of anything." Her expression hardened. "And even if he could, I'm not sure I'd want him to rule."

Arya hadn't talked to her brother all that much since her arrival. She did go find him when she heard about Jon and Ghost, looking for more information. _He does visit sometimes! _After that, she made sure to always keep an eye on the direwolf, for when his eyes turned white she would finally be able to talk to Jon again. _Well, he would listen to me, at least._

She decided to change the subject. "Do you really trust that woman?" Arya asked, nodding towards the old lady, who was walking around the long tables of the Great Hall, offering wine to the other lords and ladies. Her experience at the House of Black and White had taught her to recognise many poisons, and most of them were easily hidden in drinks.

Sansa chuckled. "Jonquil has seen over sixty namedays, Arya. The poor woman was part of Lord Wyman Manderly's household for decades, until she came here and decided to stay, because she was worried about me when Jon left. If we can't trust her, then all hope is lost." _I didn't expect her to be so naive._

"I thought you had learned something…" She started, shaking her head. "Everyone can betray you, and trusting anyone entirely is a mistake you can't afford to make, or it might be your last."

"What, you think she'll poison me?" Sansa asked, her eyebrows raised in mock worry. "It'd be an interesting concern, if she didn't always taste the wine before pouring it. The woman simply can't resist taking a sip. Besides, who would want me dead?"

Arya sighed. _Definitely naive._ "Sometimes the answer only comes when it's too late, sister… But let's get back to the Cersei problem." She lowered her voice a bit, glancing around for eavesdroppers. When she found none, she asked, "Have you heard about the massacre at the Twins?"

"Yes, House Frey was wiped clean by someone poisoning their wine. But I don't see what that has to do with…" Sansa's eyes widened, turning to face her. "That was you?"

Arya nodded, her face serious. "After that, I planned on going to King's Landing to deal with Cersei. I can still do that now, and nobody would even notice me. Just say the word." She had promised to obey her queen, though it was tempting to simply ignore her and go without permission.

The Queen in the North seemed tempted too. "Are you sure you can do it without being noticed?"

"I know it's not the same, but nobody knew it was me at the Twins." Arya offered, trying to imagine how it would happen. "I remember a secret entrance to the Red Keep, which leads to the sewer. I can enter through there. Once inside, I'll spend a day or two watching her before I come up with a plan. Obviously I can't use my own face, and I'm not sure Baelish's face would work either, since he's in rebellion and far too many people would recognise him. I believe a new face would suit my purposes, at least until I get closer. Then I'd have to find someone who has her trust, kill them and take their face." _I might be able to kill the Mountain too, if I'm lucky._

Sansa raised her eyebrows, impressed. "You've certainly thought this through…"

"She was always the first on my list. Even if Jon does marry her, nothing will stop me from ending her life." Arya wanted to have been the one to kill Joffrey too, _but I'll settle for his mother._

After a long time quietly considering the idea, her sister finally said, "I'll have to think about this. Too many things could go wrong with your plan, and then I'd lose you." Her voice dropped a tone. "I'm tired of losing people I love."

_Death has many faces,_ she knew. The one true god would always claim the most followers in the end. _For all men must die._ And yet, she didn't know why so many of her family had to go so soon.

"What happened with…" Arya hesitated, unsure if it was alright to ask, "Rickon?"

Sansa's expression darkened. "Ramsay happened. He used Rickon to lure Jon into making a mistake on the battlefield, then shot an arrow through his heart before Jon could save him."

_I should've come back sooner._ "But how did Ramsay get him in the first place?"

"The Umbers betrayed us. Rickon and Shaggydog were delivered to Ramsay by Smalljon Umber."

Arya turned to look at young Ned Umber, her eyes narrowed. "And why are the Umbers still alive?"

Sansa sighed. "Jon was a forgiving King. He refused to blame children for their parents' crimes. I didn't agree with him, but you know how stubborn he gets." She shrugged, with a hint of a smile on her face. "He forgave the Karstarks too, and Lady Alys seemed very… _grateful._"

"You don't mean…" _Jon and Alys?_

Her sister nodded. "After he learned his true name, Jon found some comfort with the young Lady of Karhold. It didn't last very long, though."

Arya scanned the Great Hall, trying to find the woman, but she was nowhere to be found. "Where is she?"

"Lady Alys has been feeling unwell for a while now. After days of her constant refusal to be examined by the maester, I finally forced her to see Wolkan. I couldn't risk the safety of everyone else in the castle, if what she has is too dangerous…" Sansa's voice trailed, her eyes growing wider and wider, and her mouth hanging open.

"What?"

Her sister blinked, then said, "I'll wait for maester Wolkan to confirm it, but if my suspicions are correct…" She raised her eyebrows. "Well, let's just say it will _complicate_ whatever plans Jon has in the South."

* * *

Arya found Ghost in the godswood, his massive frame reminding her of Nymeria. _She could've at least come back to visit, _she thought, recalling their encounter on the road to Winterfell. _But that's not her._ In a way, she was happy that her direwolf could be free to do what she wanted, roaming the woods with her pack.

Sometimes, Arya would visit the wolf in her dreams, running at night, seeing the darkness with clarity, feeling the wind on her fur and the taste of blood in her mouth. _I must be a warg too,_ she considered, thinking back to the meeting, when Sansa revealed that Jon could warg into Ghost.

Moving closer to the great white direwolf, she leveled her eyes to his red ones, trying to see if Jon was there. He licked her nose, and she laughed at the idea that her brother would do that.

"He isn't there yet." Bran's monotone voice made her turn around to face him. Her brother was sitting on his strange wheeled chair, right by the Heart Tree, like he usually did. "Jon is in a great deal of pain right now, as his body fights the poison."

"Poison?" Arya asked, worried. "How did he get poisoned?" _If that dragon queen did anything to my brother… _

"He claimed the horn, but was gravely wounded in the process." Bran closed his eyes for a moment. "A red priestess is healing him as we speak, performing an ancient ritual from the Shadow Lands of Asshai. He screams while Yara Greyjoy holds his hand." He opened his eyes again. "It should work, and when he passes out, his mind will seek Ghost. You can talk to him then."

Arya had so many questions, she didn't know which one to ask first. _Horn? Ritual? Greyjoy?_

"Well, I was right." Sansa's voice made her turn around again. Her sister was walking in long strides towards them. "Lady Alys is pregnant. Maester Wolkan has just confirmed it."

"But…" Arya's eyes widened, trying to understand the consequences. "But that means…" _I'm going to be an aunt?_ She thought, feeling her face break into a grin.

"Yes, it's very likely that's Jon's baby growing inside her belly." Sansa nodded, with a smile on her face. "While I'm happy that we'll have a new addition to the family, this makes his upcoming marriage to Cersei much more complicated than it already was." She frowned, raising a hand to her chin. "If we send word to Jon, he'll want to marry Alys because he would simply refuse to father a bastard. But that would offend Cersei, and who knows what she'd do. Breaking a betrothal can have serious consequences, as Robb learned at the Red Wedding. On the other hand, if we keep quiet and they marry, Cersei might discover on her own and try to kill Alys, the baby, or both." Her hand rose even higher, to massage her temple. "It's a difficult decision."

"He needs to know." Arya said, without hesitation. "Jon _deserves_ to know, Sansa. He hates lies, and he'd never forgive us for keeping something like this from him. I didn't see how he reacted to learning about his mother, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't happy about it." She knew her brother enough to guess. _He must have felt betrayed. Father had all the time in the world to tell him, but never did._

Sansa stood silent for a long time, before she finally nodded. "You're right, of course. But I still think we should keep it quiet, at least until we learn more… Perhaps we could send a letter to him indicating that nobody else knows, and it's up to him to decide what to do next."

"Fine, as long as he gets to know." Arya would tell him no matter what her sister said. _I'm loyal to my Queen, but I__'ll never betray__ my brother._

"You can tell him now. He's here." Bran said, making her turn to face Ghost. Sure enough, the direwolf's usually red eyes were glazed white now.

"_Jon!"_ She ran up to face Ghost, a wide smile plastered on her face. "Did you hear? _You're going to be a father!"_ The wolf's head turned sideways, confused. "Yes, a father… And I'm going to be an aunt. Because I'm your little sister. That's never going to change." Her arms went around the direwolf's neck, catching him in a warm hug. "I love you, brother. You too, Ghost." She whispered, burying her face into the white fur to wipe away the tears falling from her eyes.

* * *

"Jonquil, my good woman!" Arya called loudly as they walked back into the Great Hall, still feeling elated from her earlier encounter at the godswood. "I'd like some of that wine now, please."

The old woman smiled. "Sure thing, Princess. Let me go refill the pitcher and I'll be right back."

Taking her seat at the Main Table, Sansa had a smug look on her face. "Well, look who's changed her mind…"

"We should celebrate, sister." Arya grinned, unwilling to let her spoil the mood. She walked over to her sister's side and took her own seat. "We'll have to learn what an aunt does…" Scratching her chin, she considered, _I hope it's a girl, then I could teach her __everything__ Syrio Forel taught me._ "Maybe I could teach her some things."

"Her?" Sansa asked, eyebrows rising. "Why are you so sure it's going to be a girl?"

She shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess." _I suppose I could also teach the same things to a boy. __It doesn't matter, really._

Jonquil returned, walking just as slowly as ever, carrying a full pitcher of wine. "Here you go, Princess." She started pouring. "This one is sweeter than…" Her hands started shaking, but the woman tried to keep it steady, "sweeter..." Finally, the pitcher fell, the sound echoing all around the room. "Oh, I'm-" Her voice was caught in her throat, which seemed to clench, making her gasp for air, her open mouth unable to draw breath.

_She'__s been poisoned, _Arya recognised instantly. _The Strangler, by the looks of it._

The woman's hands grasped her own throat, trying to claw their way in, while her entire face took on a deathly purple color. Sansa yelled for maester Wolkan, the hall erupting into a confused mess of people screaming and throwing away their cups and glasses.

Arya backed away to examine the room. _Who's the poisoner?_ A strange man with a stooped shoulder and graying hair caught her eye. While everyone else was watching Jonquil, his eyes were focused on Arya. When he noticed her staring, he started running away.

_I see you,_ she thought, running with all her speed behind him, drawing a knife from her belt. They left the Great Hall and she saw him nearing the Sept. _He's too quick, I'll never catch him like this._ Arya threw her knife, catching him squarely in the back, sending him down face first to the ground.

She didn't drop her guard, drawing _Needle_ as she approached him. His features seemed to shift as she neared him.

_No… He can't be one… _

Arya steeled herself, leaning over to pick up her knife. There was no movement when she pulled it away from his back, _but he could still be waiting for an opportunity._ Gripping her sword tightly, she kicked him to turn his body face up. She stabbed him in the heart to make sure he was dead, then reached for the seam under his jaw, hoping against hope that she was wrong…

But she wasn't. When the older face came off, a much younger woman was staring with dead eyes at the sky.

_A Faceless Man just tried to kill me._

* * *

**I'm usually against adding Original Characters, because they take away time and space from the others, but I needed a sacrificial lamb. **

**Here we enter Arya's arc, where she deals with the consequences of leaving the House of Black and White. It always seemed a bit silly that she got to keep all her cool assassin powers without any repercussion. Time to face the music.**

**In other news, Alys is pregnant. ******The timeline is a bit messy, but it shouldn't be more than three months. I'll confirm it later.** I wonder how Jon will react? I won't spoil it this time. This is too important.  
**

**Finally, I noticed I've been neglecting Brienne. I'll have to come up with something for her to do in future chapters.**

**12/07/2019**


	37. The Last to Know

**Dany learns more about her allies and herself.**

**I'm going to be busy this week, so I'll post two chapters today. Enjoy.**

* * *

**37\. The Last to Know - Daenerys**

_I said farewell to a man who loves me, a man I thought I cared for, and I felt nothing._

Her own words echoed in her mind, thinking back to the memory of her departure from Meereen. At the time, Dany was afraid that her heart had become too cold to feel anything anymore, or that her sun-and-stars had taken it with him into the Night Lands. However, as she stood watching the _Black Wind _slowly vanish below the horizon, it was impossible to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

_I never cared for Daario, but Aegon is different. I miss my Prince._

The sound of someone clearing their throat made her blink and turn around. "Your Grace, perhaps we should prepare for the trip to King's Landing." Tyrion said, glancing around the harbor, seemingly looking for something. "It'd be best if we're ready for departure when the raven comes."

"Sure, make the necessary arrangements." Dany nodded, walking back towards the castle and leaving Tyrion to follow her orders.

Ser Jorah followed her. "It seems much has happened in my absence, Khaleesi."

"That's putting it mildly." She said, smiling at her bear. "But I'm sure you have your own tale. You must tell me how you've managed to find a cure for greyscale."

"Well, it was all due to the efforts of a kind and clever young man, Samwell Tarly." _Tarly?_ _He must be related to Lord Randyll,_ she thought sadly. This young man probably wouldn't be happy to learn what happened at Harrenhal. Jorah continued, "While everyone else at the Citadel was content to just let me die, Samwell went against the Archmaester's orders and tried his best to save me. I owe him a debt of gratitude I can never repay."

"If he saved you, I too owe him much. I've missed you terribly. Westeros hasn't been as welcoming as I'd hoped. There are few people here I can trust." She added, glancing back to the harbor, where Tyrion seemed to be discussing something with Lord Paxter Redwyne.

He frowned. "If I may say so, Khaleesi, you seemed rather comfortable at the docks. Before the Prince left, that is."

"Aegon is different. I trust him with all my heart."_ In another life, we might have grown up together._ Dany smiled at the thought of having such a man as a childhood friend. _We complete each other. He should've been by my side from the beginning._

"I see." Was all her bear said, staring at her with a strange expression.

Dany decided to ignore it. "But I don't even trust my own Hand. Not anymore. Lord Tyrion's counsel has nearly cost me the war, and my trust in him grows weaker by each failure. I doubt he'll keep that pin for much longer." She turned to face Jorah, an idea forming on her mind. "How about you? Do you think you could do a better job as my Hand?"

Her bear hesitated, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "I'm flattered, Khaleesi, but I'd advise against appointing me as your Hand. I left Westeros in disgrace, and many still remember why. It'd be wiser to find someone else."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right. I should use this to gain a new ally, if possible."

They made their way back to the castle, talking about less important things, yet enjoying each other's company all the same. _I've missed my bear too._

* * *

After Aegon left Dragonstone, her nights had been plagued by strange nightmares. A young dragon was being strangled by a kraken with one eye, while another smaller kraken grasped a massive flaming horn, burning its tentacles to ash in the effort. And darkness swirled all around them.

Dany finally decided to confide in Missandei, during a bath. Her friend was washing her hair with fragrant oils, while she soaked her naked body in the scalding water, the heat offering her comfort.

"Your Grace is worried for the Prince. It's only natural to have nightmares about that." Her face was upside down, as Dany leaned her head back on the edge of the tub.

"This is no ordinary dream, though. I've been having it almost every night, and it's always the same." She closed her eyes, trying to remember the details. "The dragon cries for help, staring right at me as if expecting me to do something… I know in my heart that he needs me, but I never know what to do and I just watch, helpless to his suffering."

Missandei was quiet for a long time, before she finally said, "In Naath, people used to say that the Lord of Harmony sends dreams to warn against dangers. The dreamers are bound to obey and carry out His will."

"Lord of Harmony?" Dany had never heard that name before.

"The one who always was and always will be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwell upon them." Her friend said, almost reciting a prayer. "The Naathi worship him as the one true god of all creation."

_Interesting,_ she thought, _everyone wants to worship a different god._

"Tell me more about your homeland, Missandei of Naath." Sinking lower into the hot water and closing her eyes, she asked, "Are your people as lovely as you?"

"Your Grace is too kind."

"Please, call me Dany."

"It wouldn't be proper, Your Grace."

"Please…" She insisted, turning around to face her friend, the water splashing a bit. "At least when we're alone. I have far too many people treating me as Queen, but what I need most is people I can trust to treat me as more than that. Only Aegon calls me Dany, and since he's been gone I miss hearing it."

Missandei hesitated, holding her gaze, the golden eyes sparkling back. "Very well. D-Dany." She finally said, with what seemed a great effort. "The island of Naath is home to a peaceful people, who have no desire or will to do harm to anyone or anything. So much so, that they avoid meat altogether, only eating fruit and vegetables. They make beautiful music, but are unsuited for war."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Dany asked, worried. The idea of pacifism would be perfect in a world without violence, _but our world is a cruel one._

"Sadly, my people are easy targets for slavers." Her voice dropped a tone, and a crease marred her brow. "We don't fight back, so they can take us without much effort. But the Lord of Harmony provides some protection in the form of butterflies."

"Butterflies?" That didn't make much sense. _How could butterflies offer protection?_

"Yes, our butterflies transmit a disease to outsiders, called the _butterfly fever._ The Naathi are immune to it, but everyone else would feel painful spasms, making their arms and legs shake uncontrollably. I've seen it myself, and it almost looks like they're dancing… Which would be funny, if they didn't also start sweating blood until their flesh melts away from their bones."

Dany shivered, despite the hot water. "It seems this Lord of Harmony knows what he's doing, then."

Her friend shook her head, a grave expression on her face. "The butterflies are only active during the day. Many slavers have learned of that, and started invading the island under cover of night."

_I suppose no god is perfect, _she thought, but didn't say. "Do you miss it? Your island?"

"Sometimes." Her voice was wistful, as she closed her golden eyes. "I was very young when they took me, too young to remember much. But when I think of home, I think of butterflies and sweet fruits and loud music."

_That does sound nice. _"I promise I'll take you there someday, Missandei." _I'd love to see it too._

"Thank you, Your G-" She stopped herself, a smile curling her lips. "Thank you, Dany."

* * *

In the room with the Painted Table of Westeros, Dany was waiting for Tyrion's arrival. Her eyes drifted along the length of what would soon be her rule, resting on the Wall in the North. _Cersei will be gone, but __Sansa Stark is still calling herself Queen._ She would have to deal with that once they reached Winterfell. _Aegon thinks of her as a sister, so I'll have to be careful._

"Your Grace." Tyrion said, walking through the black stone door. "You've called for me?"

She nodded. "Yes. How are the preparations going?"

"The ships are ready to take us to King's Landing, Your Grace. They have been for days, actually."

Dany took a deep breath. _A__ week __has passed__, and no word has arrived yet. _Her nightmares hadn't improved, only growing darker and darker. _Except that one time, _she admitted. In one dream, a crow with three eyes landed on Dany's shoulders, pecking her flesh away until she turned into a dragon. Spreading her wings, she flew straight into the other dragon and managed to release him, both dragons tumbling down and merging to become one massive winged creature made out of pure light, keeping the darkness at bay.

"While we wait, have you given any thought to my suggestion?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Tyrion hesitated, avoiding her eyes. "I'm not sure the Prince would approve of that, Your Grace." _You don't approve, you mean._

"Despite what Aegon believes, peace is an illusion. A tale we tell ourselves to make all the pain and suffering of war more tolerable." Dany admired her nephew's idealism, but her experience had proven that people can never work together for long. _Once there are no more enemies, we'll need to create one __before our people turn against us__._ "And I'd rather he didn't suffer more than necessary."

Her Hand took a deep breath. "I understand the desire to kill Cersei as much as anyone. More than most, really. But it seems to me that once we've agreed to this alliance, betraying it wouldn't cast us in the best of lights."

She huffed. "I honestly doubt Cersei's death would have such an effect. The woman is hated, and the only reason she still holds any power at all is the fear that she could burn King's Landing with wildfire. I'm sure most people would be glad she's gone." _And Aegon would thank me later._

"Perhaps so." Tyrion conceded, picking up a glass and filling it with wine. "Perhaps we would gain more allies with her death, but I've been thinking about what the Prince said in that council meeting." He moved to sit on a chair near the fireplace. "If we truly want to convince people to work together, this marriage serves as a powerful statement of that, as I'm sure he knows. Both sides agree to a compromise, and the rest of the realm understands just how dangerous this new threat is, to force such drastic measures." His eyes lit up, as an idea seemed to form in his head. "In fact, the wedding itself should be a great opportunity to invite all lords and ladies of Westeros, to bring us all together before we have to face death."

She moved to the chair opposite his. "His sacrifice is too great." Dany felt responsible for it, since she was the one gaining a crown. "I understand why Cersei would do it, but my Prince shouldn't have to suffer. He deserves someone who can make him smile." Her face brightened at the memory of his laughter.

Tyrion looked at her with a strange expression on his face. "Your Grace, even if Cersei dies, it's likely the Prince would simply marry Lady Yara Greyjoy. They seem… fond of each other, despite their recent quarrel." His voice was hesitant, almost afraid that she might be offended.

"I know." She said quickly, trying to ignore the images of their night together floating on her mind. _Yara was certainly satisfied._ "But at least he'd be happy. That will never happen with Cersei."

Her Hand stared at her for a long time, the wine glass hanging on his hand, until he finally said, "You're in love with him."

"_Excuse me?"_

"Jon, or Aegon, as you prefer to call him." He cleared his throat. "The Prince. You love him."

"Of course I love him. He's family. The only family I have left." She was talking fast, almost trying to convince herself._ There's nothing wrong with that. _"It's only natural that we should be close. It'd be stranger if we didn't love each other."

Tyrion gave her a smug smile. "Perhaps that's how it started, but it's clearly more than that now. I remember you were fond of him even before the feast, probably glad to have found another Targaryen. Yet, on the days following your… tryst with Lady Yara, the two of you have grown closer and closer." He raised his hands in defense. "And I'm not the only one who's noticed it. I've spoken to Missandei and Ser Jorah, and they both agreed with me. You seem to glow when you're around him, and he's all you talk about when he's gone. I'll confess that I had my doubts, at least until now."

_Am I that transparent? _"And what changed your mind?"

"When you said you just wanted him to be happy, even if he's not with you." He replied calmly. "I won't claim to be an expert on love, but I do know that it means caring more for someone else than for yourself. It's when your own happiness comes second, because knowing they're happy is the most important thing in the world."

Dany opened her mouth to argue, yet no words left her lips. She couldn't deny it. _We've only known each other for days, but it feels as if I've known him for years._ When she thought about sitting on the Iron Throne, he was the only man she could see standing beside her. Even his words moved her more than anyone else's. _You must be quite strong,_ he said once, before they watched the sunrise together. And before leaving, he said, _I think you'll be a good Queen_. Dany never felt the need for validation, since she knew of her own strength and that she would be a good Queen, but when the words came from his mouth they seemed to matter more. _He isn't one for empty flattery. _Somehow, when he said it, they sounded like facts, not opinion. _I guess I'll always doubt myself, but I'll never doubt him._

Noticing her long silence, Tyrion pressed on, "Love certainly complicates matters, but my advice is patience, Your Grace."

"_Patience?"_ She found her voice. _Why do I still seek his counsel?_ "That's your sage advice?"

"Yes, patience." He nodded confidently. "I know my sister well enough to tell you that she will dig her own grave before anyone else's. The Prince is an idealist, and I doubt he would ever betray her or dishonor their marriage in any way. However, Cersei will almost certainly betray him." He took a sip of wine, seemingly savoring the taste. "All we need to do is stay vigilant and wait until she makes a mistake. We won't need to wait long, if I'm right."

Dany considered it for a while. _What if he's wrong?_ "No. It's too dangerous." She decided, shaking her head. "I refuse to risk his life if there's a better alternative." She stood up, leaving the chair to tower over him. "You will come up with a discreet way to eliminate Cersei before their wedding. That's an order, my lord." _He's a kinslayer. What's a sister to someone who's killed his father?_

She was about to leave the room, when Varys appeared at the door. "Your Grace." He greeted, then turned to Tyrion. "My lord. Lady Yara Greyjoy has sent word from the _Black Wind."_ He said, walking over to hand her a letter.

_Finally!_ Relief washed over her, and Dany unfurled the parchment, her heart hammering in her chest. As she read the words, that sinking feeling returned.

"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked, his voice coming from a great distance. "What does it say?"

Unable to speak, she gave him the paper, noticing her hands were shaking. _That red woman has saved us again, but my Prince… _

* * *

**The beauty of this POV style of storytelling is that I can play with time. I like it, though I'll admit it can feel like the story isn't moving forwards.**

**Also, something I should've clarified way back in chapter 16: as a general rule of thumb, I'm against transcribing the contents of letters. They're usually just conveying information that we already know, and I believe the characters' reactions are far more important, so I try to avoid redundancy. **

**The only exception to that rule is when the letter itself is a hint to something more. So far in this story, there haven't been any letters like that. When it happens, I'll transcribe. **

**By the way, next chapter should be a new POV. Try to guess which one, you'll be pleasantly surprised.**

**15/07/2019**

**25/08/2019 EDIT: removed Missandei smiling when Dany's eyes were shut. How would she see it?**


	38. Catch the Cold

**Tormund goes on a suicide mission. But he finds unexpected help along the way.**

**Next chapter should take a bit longer. Probably only next week. Sorry about that.**

* * *

**38\. Catch the Cold - Tormund**

Tormund Giantsbane had grown tired of the lordling by the second day of their journey. _Robin… Even his __fucking __name is_ _stupid._ And the older lord wasn't any fun either, but at least he kept to himself. The little lord would keep asking one dumb question after another, _How big is the Wall? How cold does it get up there? How many times have you climbed it? What are the dead like? _After answering a couple, he knew the boy wasn't paying attention, since he would hear the same stupid questions all over again.

_I should've asked for the__ big woman… _

_Fuck it,_ he decided, spurring his horse ahead to keep as much distance from the weakling as possible. The boy had brought a small army of twenty men with him, each more arrogant than the last, all with armor so shiny it was likely they never had to use it in combat before._ At least they won't bother me with stupid questions. _

The rest of the journey was more to his taste, and soon they had reached the gates of Eastwatch. The place didn't seem as well kept as Castle Black, and some bricks seemed almost loose, while the gate itself had rust covering nearly half of it. _The lazy crows don't even bother to fight the salt air around here._

"Who goes there?" A voice called from the top of the castle walls.

He took a deep breath before he introduced himself as loudly as he could, _"TORMUND GIANTSBANE, TALL-TALKER, HORN-BLOWER, BREAKER OF ICE, THUNDERFIST, HUSBAND TO BEARS, MEAD-KING OF RUDDY HALL, SPEAKER TO GODS AND FATHER OF HOSTS."_ Pausing for effect, he continued in a lower tone, "The Queen sent me from Winterfell, along with some helpers."

"_Helpers?"_ The old man said, an angry scowl on his ugly face. "Step aside, wildling!" Spurring his horse forward, he looked up. "I'm Robett Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte, and together with Lord Robin Arryn of the Vale, we've come here to protect the North. You will allow us passage beyond the Wall." _This one is used to giving out orders, _Tormund noticed,_ but he could learn a thing or two about manners._

After a moment, the gate opened. Glover made sure to ride ahead, trying to make it seem as if he was in charge of everything. _Fools die first, _Tormund's nan used to say. _I wonder if the fool will ride first when we face the Walkers?_

When they entered the castle, a short dark-haired man with close-set eyes and a broken nose stepped forward to greet them, "I'm Cotter Pyke, the commander here. The Queen sent a letter a while back, detailing your plans." His voice was rough, as if more used to shouting than speaking quietly. "Before you go on, there's some people you should meet."

"We're very busy." Glover started, looking down at the commander. "The Queen made it clear this was urgent."

"Who are these people?" Tormund asked, ignoring the old man, who just stared back at him.

Pyke looked from one to the other, a grin on his pox-riddled face. "Yesterday, we had other visitors who also wanted to cross the Wall. They gave us a bullshit reason, something about Rollo or Yoler… I didn't care enough to listen. Sounded like religious crap to me, so I locked them in the cells until I figured out what to do." He raised a hand to scratch his forehead, a bit below the widow's peak. "But they could be useful fighters. One of them is the biggest man I ever saw, built as heavy as an anchor."

_We'll need better fighters,_ he knew, glancing back to watch those Vale pricks turning their noses up. _These fuckers won't last long against the dead. _

Tormund nodded, saying, "We'll go see them." And he dismounted his horse, waiting for the commander to lead him, and ignoring the looks from Glover and the rest.

Pyke smiled and nodded back, walking ahead towards a run-down building, even worse than all the others in the poorly maintained castle. _Prisoners don't get much comfort, _Tormund considered, thinking back to when the little crow had kept him under guard at Castle Black. _Could've been worse, I guess._

Eventually, they reached the cells. "Has the bastard finally decided to let us go, or are we to freeze our balls here forever?" A gruff voice barked at them, and Tormund saw why the commander was impressed. _He's as tall as the big woman, maybe even taller._ The man had a huge scar covering half his face, but otherwise seemed strong enough. _Who gave him that? Probably someone bigger._

Pyke spat on the floor near the cell. "This just might be your lucky day, cunts. It all depends on this ginger here." He said, nodding towards Tormund.

Another man stood up, a patch covering his right eye. "Has the Night's Watch sunk so low as to take orders from wildlings now?" His voice was deep and strong, echoing all around the small room. _He reminds me of Mance, _Tormund thought,_ the man could be a singer._ His clothes seemed finer than the others, clearly marking him as their leader.

The commander scowled. "Watch it, Lightning Lord. This wildling is here in service of the Queen in the North. Convince him, and you can join his suicide mission beyond the Wall."

"Is that so?" The lord asked, his eyebrow rising on his forehead. "Very well. I am Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven." Moving a hand towards the others, he continued, "These are my companions. Thoros of Myr, a priest of R'hllor," he pointed at a robed man in the corner, his hair knotted at the top of his head, "my squire Edric Dayne, Lord of Starfall," He pointed at a young man with pale blonde hair and dark blue eyes, looking slightly out of place among these older men, "and that charming man over there is Sandor Clegane, the newest addition to our Brotherhood." He finished, pointing at the tall scarred man.

"I haven't joined your fucking Brotherhood, you dumb cunt." Clegane said, again in that gruff voice. "I just didn't have anything better to do."

Dondarrion didn't seem offended, for he smiled. _Maybe that's just the way they talk?_ "We are all here for our own reasons, but the Lord of Light has brought us together all the same." Turning towards Tormund, he said, "I wonder what's your reason for following a Queen's orders, given your people's history."

Tormund barked a laugh. "Aye, we don't much care for taking orders, but in this case I made an exception. If you'd seen what I've seen at Hardhome, you'd understand." He took a deep breath, shaking his head to try and ignore the memories coming back. "I'm Tormund Giantsbane." He introduced himself. _Short version, this time._ "The Queen is the sister to a good friend, and they both want to show the southern pricks what we'll have to face. We're to capture one of the dead men and bring it back to Winterfell."

Their mouths were left hanging open for a while. The squire recovered first. "But… how?" He asked in a quiet voice. _Is he really a lord? _He didn't look a day older than the Queen's tiny sister. _Another wide-eyed lordling._

"Ropes, mostly." Tormund replied, shrugging. "And a sack. We brought those. Though I suppose it'd be better if we had a crate and a sled to carry it back to Winterfell and beyond." He turned to face Pyke. "Do you think there's something like that here? It wouldn't have to be too big, just enough to keep the corpse safely locked inside."

The commander scratched his chin. "We might have something in one of the ships. I'll have to check the harbor, but it should be ready when you return. If you return." He added, with a grin on his ugly face. "So, are you taking them with you, or what?"

He took another look at them. They weren't as impressive as he had hoped, but if those scars were any indication, they seemed experienced enough. _More than those perfumed knights, at least._ "Aye, I'll take them. Can you lend them horses? We might have to run back."

Pyke didn't seem too happy with that, but he nodded. "I'll expect them back, though. The horses, I mean. Do what you want with these cunts." He said, moving to open the cell.

* * *

They were just a few paces beyond the Wall, when he paused to take a deep breath. _This is the true North, _Tormund thought, closing his eyes. The piney smell, the freezing cold, the feeling in his bones… it all reminded him of home. _Winterfell is too hot for my taste._

"Mother's mercy, it's cold up here!" The lordling's annoying voice made him re-open his eyes. Tormund turned to see the boy holding his own arms, huddled under his thick bearskin cloak. "I thought the Eyrie was cold, but this is just too much."

The other Vale men seemed to be in worse condition, as they were only wearing cold steel armor. _At least the fools will die protected._ Glover had been more sensible, with several layers of leather, wool and fur covering his body. And the Brotherhood had mismatched clothing, mostly warm.

"You get used to it." Tormund said, spurring his horse ahead. "It's important to keep moving. If you stop, you die."

About halfway to the Haunted Forest, he spotted a raven landing nearby. _White eyes._

"That's the sign." He called out to the others. "We'll have to follow this raven now."

Glover and Arryn seemed resigned to follow, but Dondarrion spoke up, "Uh, If I may ask, why are we following a raven?" The rest of his Brotherhood also had confused looks on their faces.

"That's no simple raven." He answered, still keeping an eye on the bird. "Don't you see the white eyes? The Queen's brother is in there, guiding our way."

"I see." The man said, seemingly satisfied. _Good, I'm tired of answering stupid questions._

As the bird flew into the Haunted Forest, Clegane led his horse closer. "Who the fuck is this Queen everybody keeps talking about? It's not that Lannister bitch, is it?"

The Arryn boy answered for him, "No, the Queen in the North is my cousin, Sansa Stark."

Tormund turned to see the scarred man's reaction. His eyebrows shot up, impressed, then he muttered something about a _little bird_, but it was barely a whisper.

When they entered the dark forest, the priest spoke up, "And you're sure we can deal with these dead men? What was the plan again?" For a priest, he didn't seem to have much faith.

_That's not a stupid question._ "Sure as I can be, though I reckon it won't be easy. If the little crow was here with his sword I'd be more confident, but we'll have to make do with the people we've got." Tormund wasn't one to comfort nervous men before a battle._ If you're shaking in your boots, go back to your mama's skirt._ But he should at least let them know what to expect. "The plan, as much as we can call it that, is to find the White Walker and a small group of Wights, kill the big one and wait until there's only a corpse left standing. We'll tackle it, rope it, and stick it in a sack. Then we lump it over a horse and go back to Eastwatch to see if Pyke found that crate I asked for. If not, we'll just carry it the same way to Winterfell."

"And you've fought these… _Walkers_ before?" The little squire asked, his big blue eyes almost purple in the darkness of the forest.

Tormund nodded. "Aye, if you can call it that. Hardhome was a massacre, with thousands of free folk dead by the end. No, not dead. Worse than that." He scratched his shaggy beard. "Well, the little crow was the one who really fought the White Walker. I just watched as his sword destroyed the thing, shattering the frozen body into tiny ice crystals."

"So they're weak to swords? Then it shouldn't be so difficult." The priest said, looking relieved.

"Nah, his sword's different." _We should've discussed this at Eastwatch, but Glover was in a hurry. _Tormund had to make it clear. "From what he said, normal steel shatters when it touches their icy blades. He almost died himself, before he picked up the right sword. Only Valyrian Steel weapons can do that."

"Then we're right fucked." Clegane said, shaking his head. "You don't look like you're carrying that. And I doubt any of those other pricks have one either." He nodded back at the knights, riding behind with the old man, just beyond earshot.

He reached into his belt. "They have another weakness." Presenting the short green dagger, he said, "Dragonglass does the trick too. I just need to get close enough to stick it into the bastard." _Should've made a spear instead._

"Is that it?" The priest seemed nervous again. "Don't you have more of those for the rest of us?"

Tormund sighed. "Nah, the stash we had was lost at Hardhome. The little crow gave me one of these for protection, but after the Night King came we had to get the fuck out of there."

"I'm sure the Lord will provide assistance." Dondarrion said, in his deep voice. _He should be the priest, since he's the only one of the bunch who __actually __believes __in __this red god._ "Is there another source of Dragonglass we could use?"

"Aye," Tormund replied, nodding, "that's why the little crow went to Dragonstone to meet with the dragon queen."

"Who the fuck is this little crow you keep talking about?" Clegane's voice was as rough as usual. "You sound half in love with the man."

He barked a laugh. "He's too small for my member. Besides, I have my eyes set on the big woman." _Brienne… there's a strong name,_ Tormund's face broke into a smile, thinking of climbing that massive mountain._ Our children would rule the world._ "Nah, the little crow is Jon Snow, the former Lord Commander of the black crows and former King of the northern pricks." _Huh, he sure keeps losing titles… _

The squire made a noise like he was about to say something, but Tormund shushed him._ The air just grew colder. _A strange mist was coming from the northeast, the trees there seemed to vanish at the top. The raven had landed on a tall sentinel tree some twenty paces ahead, jumping and spreading its wings. _That's a sign if I ever saw one._

"Do you all see that?" He asked quietly, raising a hand to stop them. "We're close now. It's best if we go walking from here." And he dismounted from his horse. He turned back to see the others, and most of them were already tying the reins of their horses to trees. _Right, I should do that too._

As he moved to do it, Glover tried to take charge. "Alright, the plan is simple enough. We focus on the White Walker first. You three," he pointed at the biggest knights, "come with me. The rest of you, try to keep the wights occupied while we finish up."

He finished tying his horse to an ironwood tree. _At least __the man's__ brave, __but he's just as foolish__._ "Have you found dragonglass somewhere?" Tormund asked, raising his dagger. "Because you won't do much against the Walker without it. But I'll need the distraction, thanks."

The old man huffed. "You should hand that over to one of your betters."

"I don't see anyone better than me here, so I'll be keeping it for now." He turned to face the others. "Remember: don't destroy any wights before the Walker is down. I'll try to find an opening and stab the bastard, but it might take a while. Until then, fight defensively. Keep them away from your most important bits and you should be fine. You," He pointed at Clegane, "should carry the rope, since you look strong enough. Be ready to tie up the thing when the time comes."

Tormund searched in his saddlebags for the strengthened rope._ Better safe than sorry._ He also picked up the thick burlap sack. _Not as __important as the rope, but it should __make it easier to carry__. _Clegane didn't protest as the rope was shoved in his hands. The sack he gave to Dondarrion.

"Let's move, then." He said, gripping the dagger tightly in his hand.

Following the raven, and stalking quietly from tree to tree, he reached a small clearing in the middle of the forest. Hugging the tall sentinel, he tried to spot them. The mist made it difficult to see clearly, but he could make out the bright blue eyes of two wights, standing very still for some reason. _The kid __said six, didn't he? So where… _

A sound from behind made him turn around to see one of those Vale men falling with a wight on top of him, biting and clawing. _"Fuck, it's an ambush!" _He shouted, moving into the clearing. "Get away from the trees!" The two wights sprung to attack him, and he shoved them back. _I can't use the dagger yet._

One of the wights grabbed hold his arm, trying to gnaw the furs away. _"Get… __O__ff!"_ He waved the arm around, but the fucker was holding tightly. Suddenly, a large hand grabbed the thing and easily pulled it off, almost throwing it against a tree.

"Your plan's shit, ginger." Clegane spat, moving to stand beside him. Soon, others joined them, the priest, the squire, the one-eyed lord and the lordling, along with four Vale knights.

"We just need to find the Walker. Did anybody see it?" Tormund sheathed his dagger to avoid destroying the wights, who kept trying to attack. Counting their number, he spotted four in the clearing. _Two others must be with the Walker._

"I think I saw Lord Glover fighting it," the squire said, catching his breath as Dondarrion pushed a wight away from him, "they were over there." He pointed at some place to the left of where they came from, the mist making it near impossible to make out anything from a distance.

Tormund sighed. _That fool's probably dead already._ "Alright. Clegane, you're with me. Dondarrion, stay here and make sure these wights don't follow us."

He shoved a wight away with all his might, moving towards the direction given by the squire, with Clegane close behind. Once they entered the woods again, it didn't take long to hear the familiar sounds of people fighting for their lives.

Following it, they reached a place with several corpses of men littering the forest floor, the foul smell of death and shit mingling with the piney scent of trees. A few paces ahead, the White Walker was slicing his pale sword through an armored knight like a knife cutting through butter. Glover and those three bigger knights were shoving the two remaining wights, trying to keep them down.

"I'll go ahead and try to draw his attention." Tormund whispered to Clegane, bending low. "While I'm doing that, you go around the trees and get behind him. When the fucker's focused on me, you stick this into him." He handed the dragonglass dagger over to the big man.

Clegane nodded. _At least he's good at following orders, _Tormund considered. _I hope I don't regret this. _He wanted to be the one to destroy the bastard, but he doubted anyone else could manage to avoid being killed as a distraction. _They'd probably get skewered just like those corpses._ And without a distraction, they wouldn't get the wight at all.

Taking a deep breath, Tormund moved forward. When he came closer, he shouted, _"CRASTER!"_ That was enough for the creature to turn around and face him. "That's right, you ugly bastard. I knew your da. He was a proper mad fucker."

Every free folk knew about the sacrifices that miserable shit did with his sons. _He wasn't the only one who had supplied the Army of the Dead, _Tormund admitted bitterly, _just the most recent._

The White Walker stalked closer, his pale crystal blade glinting in the darkness of the forest, while the cold blue eyes burned like ice. His skin was wrinkled, like someone who had spent too much time underwater. The dark armor seemed ancient, though there was no rust anywhere. Tormund was wondering what material it was, when the creature's blade came slashing down.

Stepping sideways, he narrowly avoided the hit. _Too fast, _was all he had time to think, before the blade slashed again from right to left. This time, it sliced a part of his furs away. _Too sharp, _he noticed, as it was only the tip of the sword that had made contact. They continued the dance, until he heard a sound of shuffling to his left.

"_Give me the dagger!"_ The old man ordered, coming closer with his hand stretched out. "I'll finish it off!"

Tormund didn't bother saying anything, since it was hard enough to focus on not dying, weaving and stepping away from the pale blade. The Walker shifted his stance, slowly moving towards Glover with each attack. When he noticed the movement, he finally opened his mouth.

"_Watch out!"_ He shouted a warning, but it was too late. The pale crystal sword was swiftly buried into the old man's chest, a shocked expression fixed on his face. _His last surprise._

The Walker's lips curled into a smile, as he pulled the blade away to continue attacking. But his next attack was also his last, because Clegane jumped from behind a tree to stab the arrogant fucker in the back.

The sound of ice breaking apart was followed by a loud screech, as the bastard opened his mouth in agony, white cracks covering his entire body until it finally burst in an explosion of crystal shards, scattered on the forest floor.

Tormund glanced around to see if any wight was still standing, and he saw one. "Quick, get the rope!" He told Clegane, who moved without hesitation, unfurling the bundle of rope from his waist. He ran to jump on the wight, pinning it down. The surviving knights helped to keep it still, while Clegane laced the rope around it.

When the deed was done, he finally took a deep breath. _Fuck, that was harder than I thought… And it was only a small group…_ He walked over to pick up his dragonglass dagger, then said, "Alright, good job. Let's go see who survived."

Back in the clearing, everyone was breathing hard, but they were still alive. The Vale knights were huddled around the lordling, who was shaking, his right arm bleeding. The priest had a limp, favoring his right leg. The one-eyed lord had a few more scars on his face. And the squire seemed to be fine, without any blood or scar marring his features. _Either he's a great fighter, or a great coward._

He clapped. "I think it's about time we headed back, who agrees?" Tormund asked, grinning.

Dondarrion cleared his throat. "Before we leave, there's something you should see." He pointed at the middle of the clearing. "It might be important."

Tormund followed the man's finger, reaching a strange circular stone slab. There was a familiar spiral pattern on the top, marking it as the work of the Children of the Forest or the Night King. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy.

"Clegane, come here." He called, and the man handed the wight over to Dondarrion, who covered the thing with the burlap sack. "On three." He warned, once they were both holding on to the slab. "One… two… _three!"_ They heaved together, and the stone shifted to reveal a large hole on the ground.

Inside the hole was a cache of dragonglass daggers, speartips and arrowheads. "Well, this would've been useful two hours ago." Clegane said, picking one up.

But there were other things too, like several smaller stone tablets inscribed with runes, and an old dark warhorn, banded with bronze and cracked at the rim, also inscribed by runes. Tormund picked it up. _It's heavier than it looks._ He raised it to his lips and blew with all his might, but no sound came out. _Strange… even broken horns usually give off a __weak __sound._ He decided to carry the horn with him. _I can probably fix it __later._

"Maybe we should return to Eastwatch." A Vale knight offered, looking at his lordling with a worried expression. "Lord Arryn isn't the only one who needs a maester's attention."

He nodded. "Right, but we'll carry everything in this hole with us. I'm too dumb to know what's important and what isn't, so let's just take the whole thing."

Tormund turned to look at the survivors. _We came with seven __and twenty__, and now we'__re going back__ with __three__ and ten._

* * *

**Exit Lord Glover, he won't be missed. And Robin survived! Who saw that coming?**

**About halfway through this chapter, I regretted not bringing Brienne to this expedition. I've been looking to give her something to do, and this would've been the perfect opportunity. So many interesting dynamics here… **

**But she would've made the whole battle much easier, to be honest. With her skill and a Valyrian Steel sword, the White Walker would be dead within seconds. I needed some casualties here. **

**This was pretty fun to write, but I'm not sure if Tormund will return as a POV. I suppose it depends on what I'll need to see.**

**EDIT: I forgot to explain it, but here it goes: I know the cache of dragonglass with the horn had been found before (season two, I think?) but the show didn't really do much with that. And it would've been weird to mention it ("hey, remember way back when we found this horn? Yeah, it's important now.") So I just had Tormund find it again. Because why not.**

**15/07/2019**

**25/07/2019 - edit**


	39. Kinslayer

**Tyrion struggles with his Queen's latest order.**

**We're back! That was a long wait, but I haven't given up on this story yet. Enjoy.  
**

* * *

**39\. Kinslayer - Tyrion**

Tyrion had spent several years of his life trying to find a way to kill his sister. One of his earliest memories was crying until his little eyes were dry, because Cersei had called him an evil little kinslayer during one of their many fights. She had always blamed him for their mother's death in childbirth, much like their father did.

_I suppose she was right, after a fashion._

Growing up at Casterly Rock, only his brother Jaime had ever treated him with any semblance of kindness. _If not for him, I'd have jumped off a cliff at the first opportunity._ In his young mind, he saw their family divided into teams. Cersei and father were one team, while Tyrion and Jaime were another. If only he could remove his sister, he would finally win the game. However, as he grew older he realised something important.

_I could never win that game._

His fate had been sealed with his birth. Killing Cersei wouldn't have changed much about his life. And, _considering how much Jaime loved her,_ it might have become worse if his brother learned who had killed her. Besides, despite their rocky relationship, she was his only sister. Some foolish part of him had always hoped they would eventually learn to accept each other.

_That hope vanished when I killed father. Even Jaime must hate me now._

"A faceless man would be ideal." Varys said, snapping him out of his own mind. "Though I dread to think of the cost…"

They were sharing a cabin on the _Balerion_, as it made its way to King's Landing. The Queen would arrive later on Drogon's back. _Eventually._ After reading that letter, she seemed tempted to fly straight to the _Black Wind, _just to make sure Jon was fine.

_That's going to be trouble._ _S__he's already putting him above everything else._

He scratched his beard. "No, there's probably an easier way. I know she has a weakness for wine, so poison would be the best option."

"My little birds are still loyal." The eunuch had a hint of a smile on his round face. "They tell me Cersei has a cupbearer by the name of Joy Hill. Perhaps the girl can be of assistance."

Tyrion gaped at the man. "Uncle Gerion's little daughter? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

He had nothing but good memories of his favorite uncle. The youngest brother of Lord Tywin Lannister had been quick to laugh, and his face had always seemed locked in a constant grin, as if the whole world was funny to him. _He taught me how to tumble, to my lord father's great displeasure._

"It wasn't relevant until this moment." Varys shrugged, hiding his hands on the sleeves of his robes. "Information is only valuable when the time is right."

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Now is the time. I'm still not sure about using my cousin in such a way, but the position of cupbearer is extremely useful…" _Perhaps there's a way to do it without implicating her._ "We'd need a slow-acting poison, one that takes days to kill its victim. Do you have any suggestions?"

The eunuch paused to consider. "Well, almost any poison can be thickened by an agent to prolong its effects… However, some of them are too obvious, like the Strangler, or Manticore venom, so none of those should be used." He seemed to think harder, furrowing his brows. "I believe the best option would be Sweetsleep."

Tyrion knew about the famous calming decoction. "_Sweetsleep?_ Isn't that a fast-acting remedy? The few times I've tasted it, I remember the effects didn't take long to show."

"_A few grains will slow a pounding heart, a pinch will grant a full night of dreamless sleep, and three pinches will produce a never-ending sleep."_ Varys recited, as if quoting someone. "More often than not, the difference between remedy and poison is the dose. Obviously, we shouldn't give her the full three pinches right away, but if she drinks as often as you suggest, it won't take long until the dose becomes poison."

"Interesting." He muttered, trying to imagine how to put this plan into motion. "I suppose we could find out where Cersei gets her wine, lace each bottle with a pinch, then simply wait." _It sounds too easy._

There was a knock on the cabin door. Tyrion called for them to enter, and Priestess Melisandre stepped inside, her blood-red robes swishing as she closed the door behind her.

"You've sent for me, my lord Hand?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

Varys didn't look pleased by the intrusion, looking from one to the other. "What's this about?"

Tyrion grinned. "I was just covering every option. High Priestess Kinvara mentioned a very specific ritual, involving sex and shadows…"

The red woman huffed. "Save your breath. Whatever the High Priestess has revealed about that, I won't do it."

"Even if it was a command from the Queen?"

She smiled, her eyes shining red. "The only command I'll follow is from the Lord of Light. Or his champion, the Prince That Was Promised."

"Have you even seen the Prince since he arrived at Dragonstone? I don't recall you two ever sharing a room during our stay there." Tyrion asked, remembering the conversation between Kinvara and Ser Davos Seaworth at the feast. _They must have been talking about Melisandre._

The old knight had joined them on their way to King's Landing, claiming to have _unfinished business_ in the city. The mining of dragonglass had been successful enough to fill two whole ships, which were already on their way to White Harbor, so the man said he didn't need to stay at the island anymore.

"The High Priestess had advised against it, but my faith in him remains strong." Her voice certainly seemed sure of itself. _I should've known the woman would be insufferable now that she's been proven right in her convictions._

Tyrion wouldn't relent. "But it could be done? Birthing a shadow assassin to kill Cersei?"

She shrugged. "If my Prince wishes… However, I assure you the marriage is inconsequential." Lifting a finger in the air, she straightened her back to reach her full height. "I've seen the truth within the fires. _The lion will devour itself._"

"And you're certain the lion is Cersei?" _That sounded far too vague. I may be small, but I'm a lion too._ That was one of the reasons why he had never cared too much for prophecies. Most of the time, they were confusing on purpose, just to cover all possible scenarios.

Melisandre hesitated for a moment, her face betraying her doubts, but it was brief. When she opened her mouth, her voice was strong again, "Who else could it be?" _Me, or Jaime, or even Joy, the poor bastard girl. And that's just off the top of my head._

He didn't bother arguing with her. "I guess your usefulness is rather limited, Priestess. You may leave us now." He said, dismissively.

She fixed him with a glare, pursing her red lips. "I serve my Prince. Remember that, before you presume to give me orders. There's nothing I won't do to keep him safe."

As they watched the woman leave the cabin, Varys said, "Our Prince certainly inspires a fierce devotion from his followers…" His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

"Thinking out loud?" Tyrion asked, raising his eyebrows. "Careful, my friend," he warned, keeping his voice low, "some thoughts are treasonous if given voice." _And spiders can choke on the very webs they sp__u__n._

The eunuch gave his usual practiced smile. "Our Queen also inspires devotion from her followers, I'm not blind. I just find it interesting how one Targaryen wishes to solve a problem through marriage, while another wants to solve the same problem through murder."

Tyrion couldn't respond to that. He knew Jon well enough to imagine his reaction to the murder his Queen had commanded. _He's too much like his adoptive father. _Lord Eddard Stark had actually tried to save Cersei and her children, even after he discovered the truth about their birth. _But that's why he died._

"Sometimes, one death can save countless lives." He tried to justify his Queen. "A wise ruler must know when to be cruel as well as kind."

Varys nodded. "True. In this particular case, your sister's death would be the preferable alternative. She has no armies or allies of note, so this marriage brings us nothing except her life. Which few seem to value." There was no judgment in his tone, as he seemed to be simply stating facts. Then the eunuch shrugged. "Still, I hope this isn't indicative of how our Queen will solve all of her future problems. Murder won't always be the best choice."

"She can be kind." Tyrion said, trying to convince himself too. "And she has shown the ability to compromise, even when she didn't like it." Opening the fighting pits of Meereen couldn't have been an easy choice for someone who hated the very concept of slavery. "She's just a little… _distracted_ this time."

"Indeed." Varys had a knowing look on his face. "The Prince inspires devotion even from the Queen herself. I wonder how long until she orders Lady Yara Greyjoy's death?"

"She'd never do that… I think." His eyes widened, considering the possibility for the first time. Walking over to the small table, he poured himself a glass of Arbor Gold. Drinking deep, he let his mind wander. _The consequences of that would be… severe, to say the least._ If Jon were to learn of it… The last thing he needed was for the two dragons to fight each other.

"Perhaps you're right." The eunuch shrugged, clearly pretending not to care. "Perhaps the three of them can work out an arrangement, as they seem… _open_ to the idea of sharing. And Targaryens have been known to take more than one wife in the past."

Tyrion remembered the conversation with his Queen on the day of Jon's arrival at Dragonstone. _She didn't seem open to the idea of sharing then… But maybe she's changed her mind._ He switched the topic of conversation after that, trying to prepare for their meeting at King's Landing.

_One problem at a time._

* * *

"So, where's your precious dragon queen?" His sister's cold voice broke the silence. She was dressed in Lannister red, with golden studs and metal shoulder pads.

They were meeting at the Small Council Room, the long table providing a comfortable distance between the two sides of this new alliance. Cersei was sitting at the head of one end, while he sat at the other end, their people lined around them. _Qyburn and Ser Gregor are her only people._ Varys sat at his right, while Missandei sat at his left. Grey Worm stood next to her, staring at the Mountain, probably wondering how a fight between them would turn out. _N__ot well for the eunuch, __most likely._

"Queen Daenerys should arrive shortly." Tyrion replied, hoping his queen didn't actually go visit Jon on the_ Black Wind._ "In the meantime, we can work out the details of our plan. Is Euron Greyjoy already here?"

She turned to Qyburn, who said, "The pirate made it clear he would only land here when both of his queens were ready and willing, or so his letter claimed. We're to send the raven back once that happens. Harrenhal is close enough to make it a short trip. Especially on a dragon."

The way his sister's expression darkened made him curious about the contents of that letter. _I'm sure the pirate must have used a few more colorful terms._ His curiosity could wait, however. "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Make sure you only send the letter when the Prince arrives. He'll be bringing a surprise for Euron Greyjoy."

"Yes," Cersei sneered, "I was just about to ask where my betrothed had been hiding. We should at least meet before the ceremony."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure you're looking forward to that, sweet sister. From queen to princess… You seem to be taking it rather well, for some reason."

Her sneer became a smirk, her green eyes twinkling. "The reason is peace, little brother. What's more important than that? My people have suffered enough."

_It couldn't have been her idea._ Upon their arrival, Varys had mentioned how the people of King's Landing were rejoicing the wisdom of their lion queen, who had prevented the evil dragon queen from burning them alive with her fiery beasts. He had doubted that, until he visited a tavern and heard part of a song about a fierce lioness who protected her cubs from a mighty dragon.

_Hear my cry, loud and shrill,_

_Though without fire, my roar can still shake. _

_You may burn me if you will,_

_But while I breathe, my cubs you won't take._

It was certainly amusing, yet Tyrion couldn't imagine any lion having much of a chance against a dragon. Not that it mattered, of course. The song was just another example of his sister trying to control how the people viewed her. _Some still think the Sept of Baelor was destroyed by the Dornish, _if the way Nymeria Sand had been treated was any hint.

The young woman could barely walk down the streets of King's Landing without being pelted by rotten fruits, or dung, or whatever else the smallfolk had at hand. The Unsullied had helped at first, keeping their shields up around her, but she decided to return to the ship and wait there. _It's for the best, really. _He wasn't sure how she would react to this meeting, considering her eagerness for vengeance.

"What about Ellaria Sand and her daughter Tyene?" He asked, already dreading the answer. If he knew Cersei, they must have suffered a great deal.

Predictably, she had a satisfied look on her face as she turned towards Qyburn, who replied, "I'm afraid Tyene Sand has been dead for a while now. And her mother won't take much longer in joining her, being unable to feed herself." The man's voice was emotionless, as if describing a list of ingredients he required.

The image of a mother helplessly watching her daughter dying in front of her floated on his mind, and he shivered. "Was that really necessary? How are you going to justify it this time?" He asked, trying to push the images from his mind.

"It was no more than she deserved." Cersei said, her green eyes narrowed. "What did Myrcella do to deserve death?"

Tyrion felt the guilt she intended. _I sent my niece to a nest of vipers._ "We don't always get what we deserve, sister. What do you deserve, I wonder?" _Death, if I follow my Queen's command._

The Mountain took a step forward, moving his hand to the hilt of his massive sword. Grey Worm moved too, gripping his spear tightly.

Missandei placed a hand over her lover's arm. "Peace," she said, looking at Tyrion with a pleading expression, "is what we all deserve. That's why we're here, is it not?"

He took a deep breath, then smiled at the handmaiden. "Of course." Turning to his sister, he continued, "Forgive me. Let us leave past grievances behind, and look to a brighter future." _One without you, sweet sister._ "How about some wine? A man can only keep talking for so long, before his throat goes dry. I'm surprised you haven't offered us anything to drink."

Cersei picked up a small bell from the table and rang twice. "I was certain you'd refuse to drink, probably afraid of poison. However, let me assure you that I have no intention of killing anyone in this room." She said, her lips curling, as if amused by a hidden jest.

_That was awfully specific, _he mused, turning to Varys with a meaningful look._ She's not half as clever as she thinks. _They had made sure to warn Queen Daenerys against drinking or eating anything if they didn't personally see it being made, besides always having someone taste everything beforehand. He was sure Cersei would only try to kill the Targaryens after the wedding, but Varys had his doubts, so they settled on the side of caution.

A young woman with pale blond hair came into the room, carrying a tray with a large pitcher and several wine glasses. She walked with purpose, moving briskly to make sure everyone had their hands full. _Almost everyone, _he glanced at the Mountain and Grey Worm, still locked in a tense struggle for dominance.

"Cousin Joy?" He acted surprised when she moved to Cersei's side. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like she's doing?" His sister's voice made it clear he was successful in fooling her. "She's my cupbearer." Then she turned to face Joy, a fake smile on her face. "And you're doing a fine job, cousin." Just as she finished the praise, Cersei handed over her wine glass to their cousin, who took a sip before handing it back. "Something wrong, little brother?" His sister asked, green eyes glinting as she took a large swig.

Distracted by the sight, Tyrion had spilled some of the wine on his chin, the red liquid dropping to form a dark stain on his fine clothes. "No, it's just…" Thinking quickly, he came up with an excuse for the slip, "I haven't seen my favorite cousin in so long, I was overcome with emotion. Pardon me." He said, flashing a grin towards Joy, who smiled back. _Uncle Gerion's smile._

As he put the glass down on the table, he shared another glance with Varys. _There goes our Sweetsleep plan._

* * *

**Everybody wants to kill Cersei. If you've been paying attention to my style, you probably know what's coming. I won't spoil it here, of course. **

**That song was fun to write. I'm finding out quite a lot about myself as I write this story. It's a nice bonus. **

**Next chapter we'll finally go back to check on Jon. And the big meeting at the Dragon Pit. That should be fun.  
**

**25/07/2019**


	40. Blood and Fire

**And we're back again!**

**This one took way longer than I care to admit. Far longer than the time between chapters would indicate. I'll elaborate on the reasons at the bottom of the page, since it's basically a spoiler.**

**We've reached what I consider the end of the first part of this story. Many threads are tied here, allowing me to shift my focus.  
**

**Warning: A lot of stuff happens, but I don't really wanna spoil anything this time.**** Brace yourselves!**

* * *

**40\. Blood and Fire - Jon**

_My hand is on fire._

That had been his first thought when he looked at his blackened and smoking left hand. Jon found that everything he grasped seemed to slowly burn at his touch, and even leather gloves didn't last long. Kinvara's ritual had healed him of poison, _but how?_

He couldn't remember much, except the pain. His flesh searing open, as if thousands of lit fuses pierced his skin at the same time, his blood boiling from the inside. Pain so great, he had screamed and screamed until he finally passed out, seeking the comfort of his direwolf at Winterfell.

_Arya's back!_ He hoped that hadn't been a dream, seeing the last Starks reunited in the godswood as his little sister cried on his fur. _I love you too,_ he had tried to reply, yet all Ghost did was whine.

_W__hat about the rest of her words? _That was the scary part. Arya had told him he was going to be a father. She seemed happy enough to be an aunt, but Jon didn't know the first thing about being a father. His only example was a man who had lied to his son for his entire life, who had left his wife ignorant and cruel, who had allowed that son to join criminals under the guise of protection, who...

_Stop that,_ he told himself, _he did the best he could. And what's done is done._

The mother must be Alys, since she was the only woman he had bedded during his stay at Winterfell. _What am I going to do now?_ He couldn't let the woman raise a child alone. _And a bastard,_ he thought bitterly.

_I won't father a bastard,_ Jon promised himself several years ago, when Theon had taken him and Robb to a brothel. Then later, when his uncle Benjen had teased him during king Robert's visit. He knew firsthand how bastards were treated. _And my experience wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Ramsay was a bastard too._

Marrying Alys would be the honorable choice, alliances be damned. _Maybe I could take two wives? _Somehow, he doubted the proud Lannister woman would agree to that. _She's more likely to try and kill Alys if she finds out._

_No, I'll need to be careful with this information. Who can I trust?_

His eyes drifted to the beautiful woman sleeping on top of him, her lips slightly parted, heavy breaths sending puffs of warm air over his scarred chest, her left arm draped possessively around his waist.

After the ritual, Yara seemed... _different_ somehow. She had stayed by his side during the entire ordeal, holding his good hand to offer support and whispering words of comfort in his ear. The little he did remember had made him eternally grateful, but when he tried to hug her, his bad hand burned the back of her neck.

_You'll need to be careful from now on, my Prince,_ High Priestess Kinvara said, a little too late, _your left hand carries the soul of fire. Few can withstand the heat without being burned. _Then she held onto the blackened hand to show that she was one of the few. _If you wish to avoid harming others, wear this,_ and she covered the hand with a strange red glove bearing the sigil of their god. It was light as silk and felt cold at first contact, but after a moment it warmed up to a comfortable level. _You're not the first to go through this ritual, _Kinvara supplied when she saw his puzzled face.

He tried to apologise to Yara but the woman didn't seem to care, capturing him in a kiss so hungry, it left him breathless afterwards. _You owe me now, bastard prince,_ she whispered into his mouth, leaning her forehead on his, _and I intend to collect with interest._ During the rest of the day, she didn't mention it again, as they went to examine the reason for their journey.

The massive horn was at least six feet long, gleaming black, banded with red gold and dark Valyrian Steel. _It must have belonged to a huge dragon. _Its smooth and shiny surface reflected everything in odd shapes, twisted and warped enough to look like a mummer's trick. The bands were covered by glyphs in such an ordered way that it must mean something. _But what?_ He had no idea. Some of his blood was still smeared across it, the red mingling with the black.

Yara had it carried into the hold of the _Black Wind_, the thing was so heavy that they needed four strong men to lift it. High Priestess Kinvara followed them, clearly interested in learning more about the magical horn.

Jon was too tired to bother, longing for bed. All he did was search for _Dark Sister_, hoping the blade hadn't been stolen or lost in some way. Fortunately, one of the red soldiers was holding it nearby, almost waiting for him. He thanked the man and examined the slender sword. It had taken the brunt of that heavy axe attack, but it didn't seem bent or warped in any way. _Valyrian Steel has its advantages._ Satisfied, he sheathed it and made his way to Yara's cabin.

Opening the door to the captain's quarters, he was surprised to see her standing there waiting for him, naked as the day she was born. He could barely close the door behind him, before Yara stalked closer and started removing his clothes. _I know how you're going to pay,_ she said, licking her lips as her hands fumbled on the laces of his breeches, _I want an heir._

Jon stopped her hands in their tracks, and raised them over her head to pin her against the wall. _Yara, I can't father a bastard,_ he said, trying to keep his eyes from staring at her naked body, squirming for freedom under his grip.

_You could've fooled me,_ she said with a crooked grin on her face, _How many times have you spilled inside me? Ten? Twenty? I've lost count._ Remembering all those times, he felt his face grow warm and his manhood stiffen. He couldn't resist trailing his eyes down her frame, going over her perky nipples and landing on that sweet mound between her strong legs. _Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I made sure to drink moon tea, but now I won't._

She smiled, raising her legs to hook them around his waist. While he was distracted by the pressure, she leaned on her shoulders to use her body weight to push both of them away from the wall, making him fall flat on his back with her on top, straddling him.

She pinned his hands to the floor and leaned down, her nose almost touching his own, _Besides, they won't be bastards once I legitimise them. I'm the Queen of the Iron Islands, in case you forgot. I can do what I want, and I want you to be the father of my children._

Jon felt a wild desire surging from her words and his mouth moved on its own, wrapping around her lips. Knowing what she wanted made him harder than he could remember, and it didn't take long until he lifted her and buried himself deep inside. Yara moaned loudly, gripping him with her arms and legs and pussy so tightly, he almost felt his own release coming after a single thrust, throbbing against her folds.

They stayed joined together like that for several heartbeats, his head resting on her breasts and her chin on the top of his head, their arms locked around each other in a tight hug, smashing their bodies into one. _I'll give you what you want,_ he whispered on her skin.

When she heard that, her hips started moving. Slowly at first, but he lowered his hands to grab her firm ass, lifting her up and down on his length, moving faster and faster to meet his needs. _Yes, give it to me,_ she said breathlessly, _give it all to me..._

His vision blurred and he turned her sideways, laying her on the floor to spread her even wider while he plunged deeper and deeper. Her hands and legs were hooked around him, almost afraid he might pull out at the last second. Feeling her so eager made him pump even faster, until he finally lost himself inside her, burying it as far as he could while she tightened and reached her own peak, shaking all over.

She hugged him close once more, keeping her spasms almost under control, seemingly unwilling to part with a single drop. They breathed on each other's necks for a long time, before going to bed and starting everything all over again. It was almost dawn when they became too exhausted to continue, the bed rumpled and stained with their sweat and pleasure.

Yara stirred awake, her wild brown hair making her head seem much bigger, as she turned her eyes on him, her chin resting on his biggest scar. "That was the longest night I've ever spent with anyone." She said, yawning. "How many times was it?"

_Three__? No, that was __three__ times in bed._ "Four, if you're counting by me. Your count should be a bit higher." He added, recalling her taste on his tongue.

She grinned. "See? That's why women are better. We don't need to wait so long between each time." Licking her lips, she closed her eyes. "I remember fucking a girl who could reach one peak right after another, shaking and shaking until she passed out. It was fun to watch, if not terribly satisfying."

Jon felt his lips curling into a smile. "And were you satisfied last night? Or do we need to try again?" He lowered his hand to rub her lower back and she snuggled closer, hooking her leg on his.

"Trust me, you're not leaving this bed until we reach King's Landing." She said, with the usual crooked grin plastered on her face. "I want you to fill me up before we get there."

"So you were serious about that? You really want to be a mother?" Jon asked, hoping his tone wasn't insulting. _I suppose she could be a good mother._ His only example of a mother was Lady Catelyn Stark, and the woman had been awful to him. He figured she must have been nice to her own children, but he wouldn't know much. _At least Yara doesn't seem prejudiced against bastards._

Her expression shifted to something he couldn't quite recognise on her face. She seemed almost... _Shy? That's new._ "Well..." Her voice was low and hesitant, "To be honest... I've only started thinking about that after..." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "After I met you." Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed so innocent it was like someone else was wearing her face.

His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted to say something, but no words escaped his open mouth.

Yara continued, "You're going to marry the lion bitch soon, and I know you well enough to understand that once you're married, you'd never betray her." There was a weak smile on her face, but her eyes seemed dull and lifeless. "This trip to King's Landing could be the last time we spend together, so I'd like to make it count."

Jon lay there gazing into her dark eyes for a long time, before he finally found his voice, "Marry me."

"_Wh-What?"_ She pushed on his chest to rise to a sitting position, staring at him.

"I want you to marry me." It sounded even better on the second time. "That way, our kids wouldn't be bastards and we could be together whenever we want."

"But... But what about the lion bitch and the alliance?"

"I'll keep my promise. I just never promised to only take one wife." He was worried that Cersei might harm Alys, but Yara could take care of herself. _If anyone should be careful, it's the Lannister._ "And before you answer, there's something else you should know. I may have a bastard soon, by a northern lady."

"Gods, you really can't pull out, can you?" She asked, her voice dripping with humor. "How many women have you fucked, anyway?"

He felt his face growing warm as he replied, "Three, including you." _And Dany makes four, but I never… She doesn't count._

"Well, that explains it…" Yara was shaking her head, a pitying look on her face. "You're practically a maid. It's a wonder you're so good with your tongue, since I've known many experienced lovers who couldn't do half of what you do." She narrowed her eyes and poked a finger on his chest. "We'll have to work on that. If you're to be my rock husband, I'll expect you to fuck a lot of women when we share our bed with them. And they can't all get pregnant."

Jon followed all that with his mouth half open, stunned by her words. "Rock husband? Does that mean…"

She smiled, moving to straddle him. "Yes, I'll marry you, my bastard prince. You can have as many salt wives as you want, but I'll be your one and only rock wife." They sealed the promise with a kiss, which led to yet another round of draining exercise. When he tried to pull out at the end, she held him close and whispered in his ear, "Not with me… Never with me."

* * *

The rest of the trip to King's Landing went by quickly, as the days blended into nights, spent mostly in bed with his captain. _My future wife,_ he mused with a smile. Though he had been dreading his marriage to Cersei, at least his marriage to Yara should provide him some release. Jon would do his duty with the Lannister, but with the Greyjoy it could be... _Fun._

Eventually, they reached Blackwater Bay. Looking up at the sky above the capital, he spotted two dragons flying high among the clouds. _Drogon and Viserion,_ he recognised them instantly by their coloring, _but where's Rhaegal?_

"I'm not sure Euron's here yet." Yara said, almost reading his mind. "I see several of the Queen's ships docked at the harbor, but no _Silence_ or any of his other ships."

"He doesn't need ships anymore, now that he has Rhaegal." Jon countered, his eyes still scanning the sky.

Theon walked closer. "It's odd, though... His fleet had so many ships, I wonder where he's keeping them."

"If he's really at Harrenhal, they could be near Saltpans, or even Maidenpool." The captain offered, shrugging. "Doesn't really matter. We just need Euron. Once he's down, we'll take control of his fleet."

They docked at the harbor and found a rather large party waiting for them. He spotted Dany easily enough, her silver hair making her stand out nearly anywhere. She was flanked by Ser Jorah Mormont and Missandei, with Tyrion and Davos a bit to the side. At least thirty Unsullied soldiers were standing guard, forming a tight circle around them to keep the gathering crowd at bay.

Once his feet were firmly planted on solid ground, Dany rushed to meet him, "The poison…" She said, her hands shooting to his face and turning him this way and that, clearly looking for something. "What happened? You look… good." Her voice trailed as her violet eyes lingered on his own, her hands still planted on his cheeks.

Jon felt his face warming up, unsure if the heat was coming from him or her. He grabbed both of her hands, lowering them. "It's a long story, but I'm fine now. We have more important-" Dany noticed his red glove and quickly removed it, _"__Wait__!"_ He warned, trying to pull his blackened left hand away.

But she held on tightly, examining it with a curious expression on her face and showing no hint of pain. Suddenly, he remembered one of the titles he had heard Missandei announcing so long ago, when he had arrived on Dragonstone. _The Unburnt… I suppose it makes sense that fire wouldn't bother her._

"I've never felt anything quite so…" Her voice trailed again, as she placed her right hand on his, interlacing their fingers. Steam was rising from their combined fist, and he noticed a bead of sweat falling from her temple. "This is the closest I've come to actually being burned. I've always wondered…"

Someone cleared their throat, and he turned to see Tyrion looking uncomfortable. "While this is indeed fascinating, what about the horn? Did you truly find it?"

"Aye." Jon nodded, taking his hand away from Dany's grasp and back into the glove. "Yara went down to the hold to get it."

Kinvara moved faster, her red robes swishing past. When she approached, Dany flashed her a smile. "You've saved my Prince, after having already saved us all during our first encounter with Euron Greyjoy. It seems we're in your debt, High Priestess."

"I was only following the Lord's will, Your Grace." The woman inclined her head, a wide smile on her face.

Dany raised a hand. "Be that as it may, I simply cannot ignore the fact that my family owes you a boon. Let it be known that House Targaryen can also be generous. Whatever you require shall be yours. If it's within my means, of course."

The woman's eyes shone red, matching the ruby glare on her choker. _I have a bad feeling about this,_ he thought, before the words came tumbling from her mouth, "Well, there is one thing that would adequately display your gratitude… A Temple for the Lord of Light, where the Great Sept of Baelor once stood."

"Surely, you jest." Tyrion gave voice to everyone's thoughts.

The High Priestess smiled, looking down at him. "No, I speak truly. What better way to thank the Lord for all that he's done in service of House Targaryen?"

"There must be a way which doesn't involve forcing people to change their beliefs." Davos countered, his expression fierce. "I still remember what Melisandre did at Dragonstone with the statues of the Seven…"

"Tell me, Ser Davos, how often do your New Gods answer your prayers? Are you even sure they exist?" Kinvara asked, then continued without waiting for an answer, "Because the Lord of Light is real, and He always answers my prayers."

Ser Jorah cleared his throat. "What about the Old Gods? Why should they be ignored in favor of this Red God? Why not build a temple for all gods?" _He's of the North too, _Jon remembered. The man must have spent his entire life praying to weirwood trees, just like most people who lived above the Neck.

"I agree with the last bit." Jon added his voice to the conversation. "We shouldn't favor one god over others, nor should we force people to accept a foreign religion when they've lived their whole lives believing in something else."

To his surprise, Kinvara laughed out loud, the lilting sound drawing more attention from the onlookers. "How ironic that the Prince doesn't believe his own Promise…" She said between breaths. "This must be a test, of course. Nothing ever comes easy when faith is involved."

"Perhaps we should discuss this another time." Dany finally decided to end the discussion, just as Yara arrived with the horn, four muscled men carrying the massive prize between them. "There it is." She moved to inspect it closer. "These glyphs look familiar…"

The High Priestess composed herself and moved to stand beside the horn. "They're Valyrian in origin, though I'm unfamiliar with the dialect." She placed a hand over the largest band. "I've spent most of the voyage trying to decipher their meaning, to no avail. However, there are others within my order who hold a better grasp of ancient languages… If I send for them now, they should arrive within the month."

Dany turned back. "Missandei? Can you understand any of this?"

The handmaiden moved closer to her Queen, her golden eyes scanning the bands. "I think this," she pointed at the biggest glyph on the largest band, "looks like the symbol for _dragon_ in three different dialects of High Valyrian, while this," she pointed at the glyph right next to it, "reminds me of the word for _chain_ in four variants."

"Interesting…" Kinvara whispered, looking at Missandei as if seeing the woman for the first time.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Regardless of their meaning, the horn must be sounded when Euron Greyjoy arrives on Rhaegal. That much is obvious. And we don't have the luxury of waiting too long."

"I noticed none of his ships were around." Yara said, casting her eyes across the length of the harbor, almost like she expected Euron's ships to appear out of thin air. "So the prick still hasn't shown his face?"

"Apparently, he wanted to wait until both his future queens were ready for him." Tyrion replied, shrugging. "But I made sure to advise Cersei to wait until you arrived with the horn. There's no reason to wait now. Your Grace?" He added, looking at Dany with raised eyebrows.

She nodded. "Fine. The sooner we deal with this, the better."

"Are you sure, my Queen?" Kinvara asked, briefly glancing at Missandei before looking back. "Perhaps with a few more days, we could uncover the meaning of those glyphs. It would be wiser if we had more knowledge before using such a powerful magical item."

"We know how the horn works. Mostly." Dany admitted, shaking her head and raising a hand to touch the massive band. "Besides, this city isn't getting any friendlier…" Her eyes scanned the crowd beyond the Unsullied line, and Jon followed her gaze. Among the curious faces, he spotted many angrier ones staring daggers at the group.

"I was meaning to ask about that." He voiced his thoughts. "Why are they so angry?"

"My sister has been spreading lies." Tyrion answered, raising his voice. _He's probably hoping they'll hear._ "Some people will believe anything." With a sigh, he lowered his tone. "All the more reason to hurry up, I suppose. I'll go inform them of your arrival." And he walked away briskly, taking a few Unsullied with him.

Yara clapped to draw attention. "So where do we put this thing?" She asked, nodding at the horn.

"The meeting will be held at the Dragonpit, but I'd still like to surprise Euron if possible." Dany frowned, seemingly thinking hard. "Is there a way we could cover it somehow? Or put it into a crate or something?"

_It'd have to be a massive crate. _"It might make it easier to carry…" Jon imagined putting it into a carriage of sorts.

"There's nothing like that on the _Black Wind,_ but we could ask about the other ships." Yara shrugged. "Some of them are trading vessels, used to carry a bunch of stuff anyway, so they're bound to have something."

* * *

The Dragonpit was impressive. And not only by its incredible size, easily capable of housing several dragons like Drogon. Even after decades of neglect, the rounded structure still maintained a certain measure of integrity. Built atop the Hill of Rhaenys, on the northern part of King's Landing, it was uncomfortably close to Flea Bottom, the poorest part of the city.

_An odd place to house dragons._ The underground was filled with many cages and chains and dragon bones, but above ground was a large open area with stands set in a circular pattern, rising from the wide center at the bottom.

He briefly wondered what was the purpose of such a place._ Did the ancient dragonriders put on mummeries?_ Something about that felt wrong, but he let it go. Currently crowded with people, the masses gathered on the stands were all hushed in anticipation. _It was Cersei's idea._ Despite their protests, his future wife had insisted on allowing everyone to witness Euron's downfall.

_She's hoping the dragons will cause trouble,_ Tyrion had warned, looking at Dany with a pleading expression, _So we can't play into her hands._ The Queen nodded, agreeing to leave both Drogon and Viserion at a safe distance away from the crowd.

That was probably for the best, considering the dangerous weapons Cersei had set up around the upper parts of the Dragonpit. Four huge crossbows, each manned by three soldiers, with one working the aim while two others stood near the large spears used as bolts.

_They're called scorpions_, Lord Varys had informed them, _based on an ancient Dornish design._ Jon knew enough about history to remember how the dragon Meraxes had died, taking a scorpion bolt to the eye and bringing Rhaenys down to the sands near Hellholt in Dorne.

_Arya loved that story, _mostly for how Visenya and Aegon had reacted in their grief. _They burned every Dornish castle, even turning some of the sand into glass._ His little sister would pretend to be Vhagar, flying around everywhere and blowing raspberries with her mouth. Sometimes, she would convince him to join her as Balerion and he would comply, both of them running around Winterfell with their arms outstretched. _At least until Lord Stark caught us._

Jon glanced to his left, finding Dany with a determined look on her face. She was garbed in a leather dress so dark, it seemed to draw all the light around her, a silver chain draped over her shoulder the only indication of royalty, since there was no crown on her braided hair. Over on the other side of the pit, a crowned Cersei Lannister had chosen a lighter color, with a pale red dress under a white cloak, offering a stark contrast between both queens.

_One dark, one light._

Looking down at his own white fur cloak with red clasps, he knew it couldn't be a coincidence. Jon had yet to speak with his future wife, but it seemed she was already working to set them both apart from Dany in the eyes of the people. Tyrion had also mentioned a few new songs being sung at taverns, but Jon never cared much for gossip.

At Cersei's left side sat an older man in dark robes, who Tyrion had called Qyburn. _His mirror image, as they're both Hands of Queens._ The man had a chilling stare. His eyes weren't blue, but Jon couldn't help being reminded of White Walkers when those eyes lingered on him. _Odd feeling, that. I don't even know the man._

Shaking his head, he turned to look at the hulking figure of Ser Gregor Clegane, fully clad in dark steel armor with silver details, only leaving two small openings for his eyes. Having faced heavily armored men in a fight before, Jon immediately tried to find a weakness to exploit. _I suppose those eye slits are asking to be stabbed._ He would still need to get close enough, and with that huge sword his reach might cause a problem.

Beyond those two, only guards stood at Cersei's side. The Lannister lion banner fluttered above them and a screech pierced the silence. Looking up, he spotted a green dragon making its way from the northwest, the rustling sound of beating wings growing louder and louder.

He heard a gasp and Dany's hand shot to hold his gloved one. Holding on, he tried to comfort her. "It's alright." Watching her pained expression, he whispered, "We'll get him back."

She only nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the approaching Rhaegal. The dragon wasn't as big as Drogon, but when he landed on the edge of the stands, a few people were crushed under his black claws. Everyone nearby started running for their lives, as he opened his mouth and let out a roar,

_RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWR_

"Well, that was predictable…" Tyrion muttered, staring at Cersei, who seemed to be trying very hard to keep herself from laughing, with the way her lips twitched. "Let's hope that's the last of it."

"If I know my uncle, it won't be." Yara supplied darkly. She was sitting a bit to the side, next to the large crate they used to hide the horn. They had set it up in such a way that if the top was ever removed, all sides would fall, making it a simple enough process to blow on it later. Theon and three other men were standing nearby, ready for action.

By the time Euron had dismounted from Rhaegal's back, that entire side of the Dragonpit was deserted. Nevertheless, Jon was surprised to see that half of the original crowd still remained. _They have more curiosity than sense._ He also noticed the scorpions moving to take aim at the dragon, who didn't take flight again and kept close to Euron, almost protecting the pirate while his eyes scanned the place for threats.

When the eyes found Jon, they lingered a bit longer. There was something… _familiar_ about Rhaegal. According to Bran, this was to be his mount once Euron was gone. And yet, all he could feel from looking into those bronze eyes was anger. _He seems angry at the whole world._ However, if what Dany said was true, rider and dragon share their emotions. _Perhaps it's Euron who's angry._

Another man was being pushed ahead by Euron. He couldn't make it out from the distance, but Tyrion gasped. "Jaime…"

"So the rumors were true." Lord Varys nodded, unsurprised by this new arrival. "I didn't expect a madman to keep hostages, though Ser Jaime Lannister is no common hostage."

Dany narrowed her eyes. "Kingslayer…" Her grip became tighter, but he couldn't feel much pain on his gloved hand.

_Or any pain. _During the return trip, he had tried to test his bad hand and discovered that it was far stronger than before. Besides burning everything he touched without a glove, his left hand could crush hard rocks and even bend solid metals. Also, he found it was completely numb to everything he had tried. He couldn't feel needles, heat, or anything else. _Almost as if it's dead._

Turning his attention back to the pit, he watched as Euron made his way towards the center, to stand between both sides. Rhaegal settled nearby, at the lowest stand, within reach of his rider. Now that they were closer, he recognised Ser Jaime's face. Jon had only seen the man several years ago, when King Robert had visited Winterfell, and there was quite a difference between the arrogant golden lion from his memories and what stood before him now.

The bright and long blond hair had become shorter and darker, his fine armor had been replaced by dirty grey rags, his handsome face was filled with cuts and bruises, and he walked with a limp when Euron pushed him. Finally, one of his hands was gone, leaving only a stump at the end of his right arm.

"So where's the Septon?" The pirate asked, his loud voice booming across the Dragonpit. As he looked at both Queens, his face broke into a grin. "I know you two must be wet and willing, but before I give you the sweetest memory of your lives, we must marry. For I'm a godly man."

Euron stood about half a head shorter than his hostage, with black hair and a dark beard. There was a patch covering his left eye, while the other was bright blue, matching the color of his lips. _What does he eat?_ The man was dressed in a long dark coat with fringes on the sides, falling all the way to his boots. A short curved blade hung on the right side of his belt, while an axe was hanging on his left.

Cersei pursed her lips. "The Septon will be here shortly. In the meantime, now that you've seen we're both here, there's no need to keep my brother hostage anymore."

The man barked a laugh. "Yes, I'm sure you miss your _beloved brother_. Many sleepless nights in that cold empty bed, right? Here you go." He said, pushing Ser Jaime towards Cersei's side. "I don't need any incentive, now that I have my very own dragon. If you refuse anything I say, I'll just burn everyone alive." Turning to Dany, he inclined his head. "Thank you for that, my Queen."

If he could feel anything on his left hand, Jon was sure it would be in a great deal of pain, as she seemed to be squeezing it with all her might. Looking at her face, he could clearly see the fury she was struggling to contain, with her eyes narrowed, her jaws clenched and her nostrils flaring. _This could turn ugly if it takes too long, _he thought, hoping Drogon and Viserion were far enough.

"And we have another gift for you, nuncle." Yara's voice saved Dany from replying. "We're givers, you see. Even for pricks like you, who don't deserve it." She stood up, nodding to Theon and the others near the big crate.

Euron's smile widened. "A prick like mine deserves a Queen, niece. Or two of them, since it's too big for one alone to handle." As he spoke, Theon and the men moved to their positions, each holding on to a corner of the crate. "How about you? What manner of Queen are you, who takes orders from another?"

"A wise one." She replied, clapping once.

As the men lifted the top of the crate, the sides fell to reveal the massive dragonhorn, its black surface reflecting a twisted version of everyone around. Since Yara was nearer, Jon could see her reflection more clearly than the others. _There's a hole in her chest._

The pirate's expression faltered slightly and he glanced at Rhaegal, who was close enough to devour the man. When he turned to look at them, the smug smile was back. "I see you've found my horn. Thank you for the wedding gift, niece. After the ceremony, I'll make sure you get what you deserve…" His blue eye took on a colder shine, making Jon instinctively reach for the hilt of _Longclaw_.

Yara didn't seem impressed, for she laughed loudly, using the horn as support. When she regained her composure, she said, "Actually, we're keeping the horn. Your gift is the lovely sound you'll hear when my brother blows it." At her words, Theon moved to stand in position.

They had debated for a long time about who would sound the horn. Jon knew Rhaegal would obey him no matter who sounded it, but he still didn't feel comfortable letting someone else do it for him. _Who cares who blows it? _Yara had said, _I could do it myself, you know how great I am at that._ He had chuckled at the way she could always turn a serious situation into something funny. That was why he was looking forward to their marriage. Eventually, Theon volunteered to do it, and since nobody had a good reason why he shouldn't, they had all agreed.

"_Little Theon?"_ Euron seemed to think that was funny, as he bent over laughing, slapping his own thigh in mirth, before standing straight again, "I always knew you didn't have balls, girl, but I never thought you were such a coward…" Jon turned to glance at her, and by the crease on her brow he could tell the man's words had the desired effect. "My brother would be ashamed of what became of his daughter." The pirate finished, shaking his head, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You don't get to… You never…" Yara seemed incensed, seemingly unable to finish her sentences. _"You killed him!"_ She shouted, finally managing to put one together. Her long legs moved quickly, and in a few seconds she was standing at Theon's side, pushing him out of the way.

"You don't have to prove anything…" Theon said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She brushed him off, a crooked grin on her face. "I know, little brother. I'm just protecting you, like I always do." Her hands grasped the mouthpiece of the horn and she looked at Euron again.

"Go ahead." The man said, shrugging. "But you'll be wasting your breath. The horn belongs to me, it doesn't matter who sounds it. I've bound it with blood magic." His eye was sparkling now, bright as a precious sapphire. "This is your last chance, girl. Give me back the horn right now, and I'll let you keep the Iron Islands. I've never cared for that useless pile of rocks anyway. You can even take your cockless brother with you, and I promise to leave the two of you alone." He raised one arm to point a finger at her. "But here's another promise: if you blow the horn… you will die."

_Prepare to be surprised._

Yara's eyes found his, and he saw uncertainty behind her resolve. He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. _If Bran was right, I've already claimed the horn. If he's wrong… This place is about to become scalding hot._ Now it was his turn to grip Dany's hand for comfort, as he kept his eyes fixed on Yara.

She nodded back, taking a long and deep breath to fill her lungs. Locking her lips to the horn, she blew out. The glyphs inscribed on the horn's band seemed to glow red hot, then white hot, until…

_AWOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo_

A deafening wail split the air, making everyone around him double over in pain. Turning to his side, he saw that Dany seemed to take it worse, a trickle of blood seeping under the fingers she used to cover her ears. Across the pit, only the Mountain was still standing tall while the others lay squirming on the ground. At the center, Euron had also managed to remain standing, but his face was contorted in pain all the same.

_Why wasn't I affected?_

While the sound had been loud, it seemed almost pleasant to his ears._ Like a strange new song. _And that was definitely not the reaction everyone else had. As he tried to puzzle out the reason, his eyes passed over Rhaegal and realization dawned on him.

_The horn doesn't harm its owner._

Jon was even starting to feel the dragon's heartbeat, much faster and stronger than his own,

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum  
_

_Two hearts that beat as one,_ he remembered the song Mance Rayder had mentioned so long ago when the King-beyond-the-Wall saw him and Ygritte together. Thinking of his first love made his eyes seek Yara…

_NO!_

Running to her side, he took her into his arms and examined her appearance. Her cheeks were reddened and puffed out, nearly about to burst, her lips full of blisters, while her hands had been burned outright, black as ash. Her eyes were almost popping from their sockets, wide open and wildly searching for something.

When they found his, she held on to his cloak like a drowning woman. "F-Fire… I-Inside…" She croaked, puffs of smoke following her words, and her teeth and tongue were blackened too.

_K__issed by fire._

"We'll find a maester, just hold on." Jon said, trying to ignore the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach as the memories came crashing down on him. A woman he loved, dying in his arms as he tried comfort her.

_Not again… Please… Don't… _

Her lips tried to form a grin, but she winced at the effort. "L-Lys..."

_Maybe I'll take you there, once everything is quieter._

"I'll take you there." Jon forced himself to say, trying to keep the tears from falling. "We'll get married, and you can choose a woman to join our bed."

She smiled weakly, raising a burned hand to his cheek. "It… was… fun."

Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed down, until her grip on his cloak slackened and he felt her hand leaving his face. He grabbed it with his right hand before it fell, holding tightly. "Yara?" He asked, watching her body go limp. "Yara…?" He tried again, but there was no response. "Ya-"

Someone's hand on his shoulder made him look up. "She's gone, Jon." Theon said, tears streaming down his face. "She's…" The sound of howling laughter made them both turn around.

_Who could find humor in this?_

Euron Greyjoy was bent over, leaning on his knees to keep from falling, his loud cackling sending echoes across the entire Dragonpit, somehow making it seem like the entire crowd was laughing along with him. Jon handed Yara over to her brother and stood up, keeping his eyes fixed on the man shaking with mirth.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

"The stupid idiot actually did it…" Euron eventually said, breathing hard and wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "I can't believe how easy it was… All it took was a small mention of dear old dead Balon, and she went berserk." He finally noticed Jon walking towards him. "The girl clearly had issues with her father, wouldn't you say?"

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

Jon ignored him, choosing to focus instead on Rhaegal, still perched on the lowest stand, a bit to Euron's right side. The dragon's bronze eyes fixed on him, and Jon realised that anger he had felt earlier didn't come from the pirate. _Not at all._

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

_It's okay, boy… I feel it too._

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

"Who the fuck are you, anyway?" Euron asked, his eye going from Jon to the dragon and back to Jon, fear peeking out on the blue orb as he finally understood what had happened. Raising his hands, the man tried to plead, "Wait-"

"_Dracarys." _The word left his lips with ease.

_Fire heals all wounds,_ Kinvara had said. _Let's see how well it works._

Rhaegal opened his jaws and the pirate was overwhelmed by a hot jet of billowing flames, yellow and orange giving way to red, as the heat became all-consuming in its hunger. Jon was standing only a few paces away, but the fire didn't bother him at all. _Quite the opposite,_ it seemed to call to him, and he felt the urge to approach the burning man.

Euron was screaming in pain, the sound a sweet song to Jon's ears. Even the acrid smell of burning flesh didn't seem so bad in his nose, as he watched the pirate flailing his arms.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

_That's not enough…_

With that thought, he removed his glove and reached out to grab the man's blazing neck. The wild flailing stopped, and Euron's hands latched onto his blackened arm. Numb to everything, Jon simply squeezed and squeezed until…

_CRACK!_

The pirate's head became separated from his body, which fell down in a black heap, only the charred remains of his spine were still attached to the head Jon was holding up. Looking closer, what he could see of Euron's expression seemed fixed in a smile, a final mocking laughter from beyond the grave. Jon squeezed again and again, the blackened skull falling apart in his smoking hand, and soon enough there were only ashes in his palm.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

_Why don't I feel better? _He wondered, staring at the ashes.

A loud _THUMP_ sent a jolt through his heart, and he immediately knew Rhaegal was in pain. Looking up, he saw a large scorpion bolt sticking out of his dragon's shoulder as the poor creature screeched in agony.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

His hands balled into fists and a guttural sound escaped his mouth. Walking quickly, he moved to Rhaegal's side and pulled the bolt out in a smooth motion. The dragon purred in a thankful way, but Jon's eyes were already scanning the upper part of the Dragonpit, looking for the one responsible for his pain.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

_They're all responsible… All of them._

"Burn them all." He whispered into Rhaegal's ears, feeling the dragon agree with his decision.

_BaDumBaDum BaDumBaDum_

Spreading his great wings wide open, he took flight and headed towards the closest scorpion. With a _WOOOOOSH_, it was blown apart in a stream of fire, along with the soldiers manning it. As the upper stands were destroyed, heavy debris fell on the spectators who had remained to watch.

"_Stop him!"_ Someone shouted behind him. Jon didn't care to find out who it was. His eyes were fixed on Rhaegal, the dragon managing to express their anger in a far more satisfying way than he ever could.

"_The Green Death!"_

"_That beast will kill us all!"_

"_We need to leave, now!"_

"_Aegon!"_

"_Aegon!"_

"_Your Grace, he's not listening. Let's go!"_

"_Jon!"_

He blinked, turning away from the carnage to stare at shining violet eyes. "…Dany?" _She's never called me Jon before._

She was right next to him, her hands on his shoulders. "It's okay, just breathe… In and out." Her chest rose and fell in rhythm, almost as if showing him what to do._ This is stupid,_ he thought, turning back towards Rhaegal.

Dany put her hands on his head and forced a twist. "No, look at me. Focus on my voice. Breathe." Jon sighed and did as he was told, taking a deep breath in and exhaling it out as slowly as possible. It helped clear his head a bit. She nodded. "Good. Now tell me: why are you angry?"

"Because…" He started, unable to look away from her eyes, "Rhaegal was-"

"Yes, I know why my child is angry." Dany interrupted him, shaking her head. "I asked about you. Why are you, _Jon,_ angry?"

_Because my dragon was shot? _

_Because killing Euron wasn't enough? _

_Because nothing will ever be enough… _

_I'll never see her again… Never listen to her laughter… Never feel her touch… _

_Never watch her become a mother to our children..._

_Yara… _

"She's dead…" His voice felt distant, almost coming from someone else. It couldn't have been him. He couldn't have admitted that, because if he did… His vision blurred, everything within sight becoming almost too misty to make out.

"I'm sorry." Dany said softly, her brows knit in worry. "But it wasn't your fault."

Jon blinked, finally allowing the tears to escape his eyes, trickling down on her hands. "It was." He croaked weakly, remembering the moment Yara blew the horn, "She turned to look at me before… and I…" He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remained there, making his voice thick, "I just nodded back at her like an idiot." Tasting the salted moisture on his lips, he knew more and more tears were falling now, but he didn't care anymore. _I killed her._ "I could've stopped it, I could've found a different way, I could've…"

His voice trailed and Dany hugged him, leading his head to her shoulder. Jon wept copiously, making a huge mess of her dress, until his strength failed to keep him upright. Dropping to his knees, he held on to her stomach for dear life, still crying like a mewling babe. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a mournful cry coming from his dragon.

Dany brushed his hair with her hands. "Rhaegal has calmed down now. He feels your pain." She lowered herself to cradle his head, and whispered in his ear, "You're not alone."

* * *

**This was a challenge to write. I'd never realised how much I loved Yara until I wrote her death. However, that was partly why I needed to kill her off. She was so fun to write, I was considering changing the whole story just for her. **

**It's funny, though. I tend to write what I want to read, but I REALLY didn't want to read this chapter. That's why it took so long to write. I've been struggling with this one for almost two months. Hopefully, the next ones won't be so painful.**

**As a fair warning, I'm considering posting this on AO3. But I don't even have a profile there yet, so it might take a while. It's weird, because I visit that site far more often than this one. Their tags make it easier to find what you want to read. This site has better readability, though, with the dark mode and control of the font size. I wish there was a way to combine both...**

**07/08/2019**


	41. Consequences

**The Queen in the North deals with recent events.**

**I'm gonna stop saying "we're back" after a long hiatus. I'm sure it gets old.**

**I've changed my mind about posting this on AO3. At least for now. I'll wait until it's finished, then I can try to edit everything in fewer chapters.**

**Another thing. I'm finding this one POV per chapter format a bit too limiting. I might change this up for certain future chapters, when many things happen at the same time.**

**But that's for later. Let's enjoy this for now.  
**

* * *

**41\. Consequences - Sansa**

_Arya Stark of Winterfell,_

_If you are reading this, our agent has failed. And a girl has learned much. _

_However, our secrets belong to members of our Order. When you left us, it was under the assumption that you would also leave behind what you've learned. Our gifts are sacred. We serve the Many-Faced God, not ourselves. We are no one._

_You made the choice to become someone, Arya of House Stark. You have no right to use our secrets for your own purposes. We know about House Frey. We know about Petyr Baelish. And we know about your list. This was only our first attempt. The agent we sent was inexperienced, fresh out of training._

_Now you have another choice to make._

_If you decide to stop, to never wear another face and to never kill again, this will be the end of it. We'll let you live the rest of your days in peace. _

_If you continue on your current path of using our secrets to satisfy your personal desires, we will hunt you down. Every drink you sip, every food you eat, everything you touch… Nothing will ever be safe for you. Until you receive the gift, every face you see could be one of our agents. The only peace you'll find is death._

_Choose wisely._

_Valar Morghulis._

Sansa read the letter once again, trying to keep her hands from shaking. Arya had found it inside a pocket of the assassin. _The Faceless Man,_ as everyone knew now. They couldn't keep the truth hidden. Her sister was found near the body, holding a wrinkled piece of skin. However, most believed their Queen had been the target.

Brienne had apologised many times, blaming herself for Jonquil's death. _I've been lax in my duties, Your Grace. Please forgive me, _she had said, her voice contrite with shame. Following the attempt, she had taken it upon herself to become Sansa's food taster, besides shadowing her every move.

"You don't have to follow me everywhere, Brienne." She said, as they were walking over to the godswood. "As I've told you many times, I wasn't the target."

The tall woman shook her head, her expression severe. "I made a promise to your mother and I intend to keep it, Your Grace. Lady Catelyn bade me to protect her children to the best of my abilities." Her blue eyes wavered a bit, but her hand gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. "Any threat to you or your sister is a threat to me."

Sansa felt her expression softening. She had many sweet memories of her mother, and it made her heart swell with pride that someone else had been affected by the woman. "Thank you for your loyalty, then. Let us see what my sister has decided."

Upon reading the letter, Arya had bolted to speak to Bran. _When you have access to someone who can see everything, it's foolish to ignore them._ They were sitting near the Heart Tree, both awfully quiet for some reason. Bran on his wheeled chair and Arya on the snowy ground, her knees bent in front of her and her arms crossed over.

"Well?" She asked, looking from one to the other. "What have you learned?"

Arya didn't move her head, continuing to stare at the distance with her grey eyes unfocused. "Nothing." Was her only reply.

"My sight is limited." Bran explained in his usual monotone. "I cannot see across the Narrow Sea, or anywhere beyond the continent of Westeros."

Sansa frowned. "Why?"

"My eyes are bound to weirwood trees." He stared back at her, emotionless.

_That doesn't make sense,_ she thought, knowing that very little about the Three-eyed Raven actually made any sense at all. "But you can see everything that happens in the south, and there aren't many weirwoods there."

"While the invading First Men, Andals and Rhoynar have cut and burned many trees in the past, their roots grew deep. Especially the first one in the Isle of Faces." Bran breathed deeply, closing his eyes as he put a hand on the Heart Tree. "Nothing will escape my sight on this land."

_Good for you, but that doesn't help us now. _Turning to Arya, she said, "We'll have to work with the information available to us. If that letter is true, it seems our next step is clear."

Her sister rose to stand up, patting the snow away from her breeches. "And what's that?"

"You will stop."

_It's obvious, really. _The Faceless Men hadn't given them a choice at all. _Life or death?_ Only a madwoman would choose the latter.

"Is that a command, Your Grace?" Arya asked, like a madwoman.

"Do I need to command you to live in peace? You've read the letter, you know their terms. Is it so terrible to stop killing?" Sansa hadn't asked about her sister's past, but whatever she went through must have twisted her to the core.

"It's not that simple…" She ran a hand over her hair, letting out a sigh. "I can't just stop being who I am. If anything, reading that letter just made me want to return to Braavos and finish what I started." Her eyes narrowed. "I should've killed them all when I had the chance."

"Arya…" Sansa started, trying to find the right words to pull her sister back from the abyss of death and destruction. "I know you never wanted to be a lady, but there are many other ways you can still live a peaceful life without a husband." Turning to her side for help, she asked, "Isn't that right, Brienne?"

The tall woman hesitated. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but I wouldn't use my own journey as a good example of a peaceful life. Had I not killed, we wouldn't be here at Winterfell right now."

_So much for support, _Sansa thought, without really blaming her sworn shield. _She's not wrong._

"And that's just one problem with their threat." Arya raised a hand to Brienne, while turning her head from one to the other. "I'm not allowed to kill again._ Ever._ What if someone attacks me? Or attacks you? What am I supposed to do then?"

Sansa waved a hand. "Killing isn't the only way to respond, and you know that. Even that assassin yesterday, you didn't have to kill her." Maester Wolkan had found two fatal stab wounds after his examination of the body. "We could've learned more about their terms, or how she found her way here, or something, anything else, but you ended that possibility."

"Some people are too dangerous to be left alive." Arya said, her grey eyes cold as steel.

"Perhaps that's true." Sansa conceded, nodding slightly. "But why should that be your decision? Because you have the power to kill them?" She remembered their first conversation about Littlefinger, and how similar it was to the one they were having now. _I suppose it's about time we get this straight._

Her sister fixed her with a glare for several heartbeats, until her lips finally parted, "Yes. From what I've seen of this world, you're either killing or being killed." Her eyes drifted off to the side, becoming unfocused. "The survivors are just better killers."

_Is that what I am? A killer? _Sansa began to doubt herself, thinking about her sister's words. _I fed Ramsay to his dogs, but he deserved it. He was a killer too. His mistake was keeping me alive. Does that make me a better killer than him? _A cold breeze made her shiver in her boots.

Arya continued speaking, "Those arrogant assassins claim to work for their god, but at the heart of it they're just the best killers. And they don't work for free. Since the Many-Faced God doesn't collect taxes, all that gold must go to someone's pockets." Her words were starting to make sense. _It all boils down to gold in the end, I suppose._

"So… what are you saying?"

Her lips curled in a tight smile. "They're afraid of me. They must be. Why else would they waste a potential Faceless Man just to kill me? And promise further attempts?" She seemed to be figuring things out as she spoke, for her legs started moving as she paced from side to side, keeping a hand under her chin and her brows furrowed in concentration. "The letter mentioned their secrets, so that's part of it… If I were to reveal their secrets, they wouldn't be the only ones with that power… They'd lose so many clients…" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper at the end.

"Ar-"

"_That's it!"_ Her sister interrupted with a shout, her eyes wide at some revelation. Walking closer, she put her hands on Sansa's shoulders and said, "I know what I have to do. It might take a while, but it should fix everything."

"You're not going to tell me your plan, are you?"

Arya grinned, her eyes twinkling. "See? We're finally understanding each other, sister. Don't worry, you'll learn when I'm ready to take action. Until then, I promise I won't kill again."

Sansa sighed, slumping her shoulders. _That's better than nothing. _"Fine. As long as the attempts stop, we should be safe." She paused to take a good look at her sister. The young woman had a determined expression on her face. "In the meantime, what do we do about Littlefinger?"

"I won't be able to use his face anymore, so it'd be best if his body was discovered by someone." Arya offered, shrugging.

She considered her options. After Robin Arryn left for Eastwatch leaving the other Vale lords at Winterfell, they learned that the face of Petyr Baelish wasn't as well-liked as the man loved to claim. Most lords and ladies seemed to hate the man, believing him to be a bad influence over the young Lord Arryn. _They'd be glad to know he's gone, but that doesn't mean we can admit to have killed him._

"Perhaps we could blame the Faceless Man for his death." She decided, figuring that would be their best available choice. "Someone will find the body and I could convince maester Wolkan to stay quiet about how long he's been dead. Hopefully, the Vale lords won't look too deeply into it."

Sansa had hoped to put the man on trial to prove his many crimes, and she had even considered using Arya's talents to that extent, but it might be best to simply move on. _He's dead. Let it go._

The quiet, muffled sound of paws stepping on snow made them turn around to face Ghost. The direwolf was usually silent when he didn't want to be noticed, so it was clear he wanted to greet them.

Arya reacted first, moving quickly to his side. "Hey, boy…" She said softly, placing her gloved hand on his head. Ghost closed his red eyes for a bit, enjoying the contact. "How's Lady Alys?" Arya asked, looking from the happy wolf to Sansa. "Have you seen her since the attempt?"

"Yes. I checked on her right after." She had been worried about the pregnant lady even before learning there was an assassin in Winterfell. "The woman seemed to put on a strong front, but I could tell she was terrified." Glancing at Brienne, she turned back to Arya. "I'm considering sending someone to keep her safe."

"I'll keep her safe." Arya said, without hesitation. Her eyes lingered on Ghost for a moment, before drifting back. "We can't trust anyone outside this godswood. Besides, I'd like to get to know her."

Sansa inclined her head, smiling. "As you wish." After a short pause, she continued, "I suppose we should all get to know her too. She'll be part of the family soon." _Even if Jon doesn't marry her, the woman will still be the mother of his child._

* * *

"A raven from Eastwatch, Your Grace." Maester Wolkan said, offering her the small parchment.

She thanked him and read quickly. As her eyes scanned the words, she felt the spark of hope burning in her chest. _The plan worked! _Tormund was returning to Winterfell with a wight. Lord Glover and several Vale knights had died, but it seemed a small price to pay for proof about the Army of the Dead. _Now we can finally convince everyone!_

"Good news, I hope?" Brienne was examining her face.

Sansa nodded with a smile. "Great news." Turning to the maester, she asked, "How long will it take for them to arrive?"

"Anywhere between five and ten days, Your Grace." The man hedged. "It depends on how high the snows have settled on the road."

Sansa considered. _That's too long. Anything could happen in the meantime. _"I need to send word to Jon about this."

"Would you like me to write it?"

"No, I'll go see Bran first." She rose to stand up. "Excuse me."

Walking quickly, she left her solar and went to the godswood with Brienne right by her side, shadowing her every move. Upon arrival, they found the Three-eyed Raven on his usual spot. _Doesn't he ever grow bored? Or can he even feel that anymore?_

"Don't send the letter to Dragonstone." He said, without turning his head to greet her. "Jon isn't there anymore."

Sansa didn't bother asking how he knew. "Then where do I send it? He needs to know about this." She said, waving the paper.

"King's Landing." His monotone voice replied. "Address it to Tyrion Lannister. He'll know what to do."

_That was odd._ "Why not Jon?"

"He won't be in the right state of mind to deal with this." Bran's words held no emotion, but something about them made her heart sink to her stomach. _What happened to him?_

Sansa paused, unsure if she wanted to hear it. "Is… he in danger?"

"Don't worry. He'll get better when he sees Arya again."

"Arya?"_ That doesn't make sense. _"But she's here at Winterfell."

After their conversation about that letter from the Faceless Men several days ago, Arya had spent most of her time with Alys Karstark, following the pregnant lady of Karhold almost everywhere. _One would think she's in the Kingsguard, protecting the future princess. _Sansa blinked. _Princess? Now I'm hoping for a girl too._

Sansa herself had grown a bit closer to Alys. After the revelation of her pregnancy, the woman seemed almost ashamed to speak to her Queen. With some prodding, the young lady had revealed she was afraid they would think she did this on purpose, as a way to force Jon to marry her.

_But nobody forced him to sleep with you,_ Sansa had replied without hesitation. _It takes two to make a babe, and Jon should've known better._ If anyone had been forced in that situation, it was the lady, not the king. When her brother returned to Winterfell, Sansa would have a few choice words for him.

Bran sighed, in what was probably the first expression of emotion she had seen him display since his arrival as the Three-eyed Raven. _Perhaps he does grow bored sometimes._ "Do you plan on leaving Winterfell to attend the wedding of Aegon Targaryen to Cersei Lannister?"

"Of course not." If she had her way, Sansa would never leave her home again.

"And Brienne doesn't seem willing to leave your side." He said, looking up at her sworn shield. The woman gave a slight nod, confirming his statement. After a short pause, he continued, "Therefore, Arya would be the natural choice to represent your interests in King's Landing."

"I suppose…" _But what if she decides to kill Cersei?_ Everyone would assume it was an order from the Queen in the North, and Sansa would be left to shoulder the consequences of her sister's actions. _Again._

As if reading her mind, Bran said, "She won't kill Cersei. At least not until she deals with the House of Black and White."

"Should I send her south right now?" Sansa asked, worried for Jon._ He's been gone too long. "_Is the wedding going to happen soon?"

Bran stared at her with those dead blue eyes, impassive. "Tyrion Lannister wishes to use the wedding ceremony for another purpose, so it should take a while. However, if your concern for Jon Snow is too great for your conscience to bear, sending Arya sooner might ease his pain."

She had more questions to ask, but something told her that each answer would simply make her even more curious. _Speaking with him is like stitching an intricate pattern on a large fabric. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of something you recognise up close, but as the needle works the pattern changes, becoming more and more confusing. And only the Three-eyed Raven can see the entire fabric._

"I'll go find her." Sansa decided. If Jon was in pain, she would help him in whatever way she could.

* * *

**I finally transcribed a letter. As I wrote it, the game Skyrim came to mind. Specifically, the Dark Brotherhood (WE KNOW). **

**My original plan was to have Sansa convince Arya to give up the killing. However, as they started discussing it, Arya's arguments made a lot of sense and I couldn't counter them in a satisfying way. **

**I know it sounds weird since I'm the one writing this, but sometimes the characters write themselves. Plans and outlines are nice to have, but when you actually start writing each chapter you finally understand how complex these things are. It's no wonder GRRM is stuck.**

**25/08/2019**


End file.
